Post Tenebras Lux
by Drarryfan322
Summary: It had been nearly five years since the light had fallen under the Dark Lord's reign. Nearly five years, since Ron had seen his best mate alive. Dobby would have saved them all, too, if it weren't for Bellatrix's knife sabotaging Harry's escape. Their hope died with Harry. There was no chance of winning-they'd have to survive in the darkness. (Contains slash, noncon, and mpreg)
1. Chapter 1

**Disclaimer: I do not own anything familiar in this story. All rights to these characters belong to the remarkable J.K. Rowling.**

 **A/N:** This is my first attempt at fanfiction in years, but I had a plot in my head that kept popping up. It's a darker one, so don't ignore the warnings. It's also unbeta'd so any mistakes are my own. There are a lot of Flashbacks as well, so it helps to pay attention to the dates to avoid confusion.

Enjoy!

xx

Drarryfan322

* * *

 **Chapter 1** **: Prologue**

 **June 30th, 2002 (present day)**

"Ron? Are you ready to go?" Ron looked up at his fiancée with an apprehensive expression on his freckled face. Hermione had donned her black robes already, her thick hair pulled tightly back in a neat bun on top of her head. Her cheeks were flushed in obvious discomfort, even though he could tell she was trying hard to remain poised. Ron could understand why; the summer was always the hardest for them all. Being a Muggleborn however, must've been even more so daunting. He adjusted his green robes, hating the way they clashed horribly with his red-orange hair and hating everything they stood for.

"Yeah, 'Mione…are you okay?" She nodded once, jaw set, and took his larger hand in her own. Together they walked outside, luggage in their free hand. Hermione pulled out a large silver coin from her pocket and held it out to the red-head. Ron grimaced at the Dark Mark emblem that suddenly appeared as he took hold of one side.

" _Portus_."

* * *

 _"_ _We swear our allegiance to the Supreme Leader. May the Dark forever reign."_

Hermione grasped at Ron's clammy hand as they got up from their kneeling position on the stone floor of the Great Hall. She stood amidst the Weasley Clan; she was a black speck in the swarm of green robes. The green figures, however, were a minority. Few purebloods were blood traitors, after all. No, there were many more of those in black robes, and even more dressed in silver—the half-bloods.

This was the forth—had it really been that long?—Summer of Atonement. The annual event that required every family that had once supported the Light Side to spend their summer months at Hogwarts in order to affirm their loyalty to Voldemort and study in depth, the dark arts.

 _Convert to their twisted ideals, or be executed in front of our friends and family…"_ thought Hermione bitterly. So she did what she had to do to survive another day—they all did. So many of them remained hopeful that one day they'd be able to bring down that monster and his disgusting followers. Hermione felt a twinge of pain in her heart…they didn't know that it was impossible. They didn't know of the horcruxes that allowed Voldemort to sustain his immortality. Someday, when these people surrounding her faced their own mortality, that evil man would still be sitting on his throne in the Ministry, deciding who was allowed to live.

 _If only Harry had been allowed to live._

* * *

 **Flashback- March 25** **th** **, 1998 (3 days after capture)**

"Potter, drink the water."

"No."

"You're going to dehydrate if you keep being so unreasonably tenacious."

"Your point?"

"Damn it, Scarhead!" Draco snapped, losing his cool as fear trickled through him. "He'll punish you if you don't do as he wishes. And then _I'll_ be punished, too. If you haven't noticed, the _cruciatus_ curse is terrible. Do you really want more of it?"

"I don't _care_ , Malfoy." Harry rasped. He looked up from where he was chained against the cell wall to peer at the blond boy stubbornly. "The bastard will use it on me anyways. He just wants me standing so he can take pleasure in knocking me on my arse again."

Draco shook his head slightly, glancing up the stairs to see if anyone had heard the Boy-Who-Lived's asinine outburst. He whipped his head back at him, angrily. "Think of your bloody friends, Potter. If you die, HE wins, and they're screwed. You really think HE will let them live? The Mudblood—" Harry let out a growl "-and the blood traitor…if not for yourself, do it for their sakes."

Still furious at the Slytherin's slur, Harry lowered his head to stare at the water goblet Malfoy had slipped through bars of the cell. As much as he hated to admit it, Malfoy had a point. He had to stay alive and healthy…healthy enough, so he could escape.

…Since when had _Malfoy_ ever wanted Harry to stay alive? He scowled. Who was he kidding? The blond would say anything to save his own hide. He raised the goblet to his lips and took a sip, ignoring the other boy's relieved expression and nod. The water felt heavenly against his tongue. It soothed his scratchy throat and eased the cracks in his dry lips. It hadn't been long that he had been prisoner here, but it had been long enough.

 _I hope they're okay. Wherever they are, I hope they're safe._

Harry set the now empty goblet down on cold ground. He didn't acknowledge Malfoy's presence anymore. Instead, he brought his scraped knees to his chest and wrapped his thin arms around them with a new resolve. People were counting on him. He had to live.

It wasn't until later that evening, when Harry lay before the Dark Lord, panting and groaning in pain from the aftershocks of another _crucio_ sent his way, that he knew without a doubt, that he would live.

It was then, when Nagini slithered besides his sweaty body as it shuddered weakly on the ground, hissing at Voldemort one sentence that would, without a doubt, ensure his survival.

 _"_ _He smellsss like usss… He too, carriessss your sssoul within hisss body, my lord."_


	2. Chapter 2

**Disclaimer in first chapter.**

 **Chapter One**

 **A/N:**

This chapter jumps around a lot with the flashbacks. Actually, the whole story does, for the most part. I hope it's not too crazy to follow though, as it's crucial for the plot development.  
WARNING: This chapter contains non-consensual sex/rape. If it's too much for you, then turn back now or skip the last flash back at the end of the chapter (April 4th 1998). I personally didn't think it was too graphic (I've seen much worse), but it's still pretty upsetting.

Also, all mistakes are my own.

* * *

 **July 6th, 2002 (present day)**

Minerva McGonagall watched with a furrowed brow as one of the Patil twins tried and failed at the severing curse she cast on the spider before her. Four years of this, and it never got any easier to watch her students, all of whom were once young and eager children with bright smiles and curious minds, perform dark magic. The most common victims were spiders and rats, tortured for the sake of acclimating them all to the Dark Arts.

Of course, throughout the school year, she was still the Transfiguration teacher; although, some of the new material was much crueler than she would have liked. However, every summer found her, along with her fellow teachers, encouraging witches and wizards of all ages to torture, to maim, to to kill.

This was not what she had signed up for all those years ago. Merlin, did she miss Albus Dumbledore...regardless of his faults and questionable decisions, he had been a good man, with good intentions. Voldemort would've never been able to seize the school had Albus lived.

Shaking her head slightly to rid her mind of treacherous thoughts, she clapped her hands twice and called for a ceasefire. "That is all for today! Tomorrow we will continue with the cutting curse and discuss the key points on the human body to aim at, for a quick death versus a slow death. Please dispose of your dead spiders on your way out."

She watched as the mass of green, silver, and black robed figures rushed to comply, more than willing to call the lesson quits for the day. She suppressed a heavy sigh and opened her mouth to say aloud with the group, "We swear our allegiance to the Supreme Leader. May the Dark forever reign."

 _Definitely not what she had signed up for._

* * *

Severus Snape was not a kind man. He was bitter and sour and he knew it. He didn't care if much of the Wizarding World that had been a supporter of the "Light" still believed him to be nothing more than traitor and a monster. It didn't matter if he killed Albus Dumbledore at his request. It didn't matter that he risked his life by playing the double agent. Nothing remotely "good" he did mattered, because every time he was in this house that was hidden from society, he too, believed himself every bit a monster.

He strolled swiftly down the dim hallway on the third floor of said house and opened the heavy door that led into the medical room. He gazed briefly at the dark haired boy who sat wearing nothing but a hospital gown. His dark hair was long now, and pulled into a low ponytail down his back. His glasses were gone, no longer needing to rely on them to see, after taking correctional potions for the prescribed 18 months.

"Potter." Severus acknowledged tersely, as he allowed the door to shut behind him.

"Sir."

"How are you feeling today?" he pulled out his wand and pressed the tip to the boy's chest, getting down to business. Harry shrugged his shoulders slightly. "Nothing unusual then? No wounds that require attention?" Harry shook his head.

"I've been good, sir," he murmured.

Snape nodded. _Of course_.

"Lay down, Mr. Potter. Just a quick diagnostic scan now." Harry complied and leaned back on the padded table. They were silent as Severus ran his wand over Harry's body. He ignored the purple marks on the boy's neck and the bruising on his hips. Those weren't unusual.

He continued his exam in silence.

* * *

 **Flashback: April 2nd, 1998**

"Dumbledore trusted you, Snape!" Harry spat out at the black haired man before him.

"I know." Was all the bastard said in reply. Harry held the tears that were threatening to come forward, at bay.

"Where am I? What is this place? Why is he keeping me with the Malfoys?" Harry rushed, desperate for the man to show some sort of remorse and give him some answers.

"I cannot tell you, Potter. Now do as I say and lay down. I have orders to perform this diagnostic scan, Potter and I will restrain you should it become necessary." Harry glared at him furiously, and Snape had to force himself to hold the gaze. _Too much like Lily's_ , Snape thought. He pinched the bridge of his nose. "Do as I say. I will not ask again."

"You and I both know HE won't kill me. What can he do to me now, if I don't obey? A couple hexes- but not too much because he won't want to put his precious horcrux at risk? Another round with the whip? Bring it, then."

 _You don't want to know his plans for you, Harry Potter. Although, I suppose you'll learn of them before long..._

Snape whipped out his wand then, and cast a body bind on the headstrong boy. Harry's body snapped backwards as he was forced to lay supine on the table. _If looks could kill._

"Don't be difficult, Potter. It will get you nowhere. No—don't speak. Listen to me. The Dark Lord is not playing games with you. He'll do everything in his power to keep you hidden and keep you healthy. That's why I am here. To make sure of that." _Well, partially._ "But don't think for one minute," the Headmaster continued lowly, "that he won't find other ways to torment you. That he won't cause you pain, physical or mental. Don't be so ignorant to believe he will ever treat you with anything other than pure hatred—Horcrux or not. He will make you suffer in unimaginable ways. He will coerce your obedience, one way or another. You'll be his and he will relish your misery. He is capable of nothing else but animosity and you'll do well to remember that."

Harry felt his throat constrict as Snape's black eyes bore into his own. If the man was trying to instill fear into Harry, he had succeeded. As much as Harry abhorred to admit to even himself, he was afraid. He knew the evils Voldemort was capable of, he had heard of them, he had witnessed them in the dark recesses of his mind as he slept at night, and he had felt the cruelty first hand. Yes, Harry was scared. But he would never give the greasy old bat or the Dark Lord himself the pleasure of knowing.

Trying his best to continue his defiance, he snapped at Snape with his best brave face on. "Is that any way to speak about your master, Snape? Shouldn't you be singing his praises and fantasize licking his boots?" Snape said nothing for a moment as he stared at the raven haired boy.

"You are naïve, Potter. You think you have this all figured out but I assure you, you know nothing." With that, Snape opened a drawer and pulled out a syringe. From his pocket he withdrew a yellow-green looking potion. Harry could've sworn he saw the older man's hands shake slightly as he filled the syringe with the liquid. Harry tried to shy away but the body bind rendered him helpless as the man lifted the gown to reveal his lower abdomen.

"What? Please don't! What is that? Snape, please don't! _Please_! _What is that_?" He could do nothing to keep the panic from creeping into his voice. Snape ignored him as he injected the potion into his stomach, the liquid burning slightly and making his insides cramp up. Harry blinked the tears away. "What are you doing to me?" he whispered.

Snape discarded the needle into a locked box and with a swish of his wand he released the boy from the bind. "We are done here, Potter. You may get dressed and be on your way." Harry stared at him in a shocked anguish.

"What in the _hell_ was that? Snape, please, Sir, what did you do to me?" he begged, but Snape remained silent once more as he walked over to the door. He yanked it open a little too roughly before he paused, not looking back at Harry.

"For what it's worth, Potter…I am truly sorry." He left then, ignoring Harry's continued pleads for answers as he strode back down the hall, down the stairs, and into the parlor. He ignored the Malfoy family whom were all sitting rigidly in high backed chairs as he knelt down before the throne-like one in the center with his head bowed in submission.

"You may speak of your findings, Severus."

Severus raised his head slightly, but kept his eyes down onto the floor. "The boy is in decent health, My Lord. He is slightly malnourished, but he has always been a bit underweight. I will supply nourishment potions if you wish it, Master."

"Yes, that would please me. Have you completed the rest of your task, Severus?"

"Yes, My Lord. It is done. He will be ready in forty-eight hours."

A satisfied look appeared on the pale, harsh face. "You have served me well and faithfully, my friend. I imagine your presence is needed back at Hogwarts. You are dismissed until further notice."

"Thank you, My merciful Lord."

* * *

 **July 6th, 2002 (present day)**

"Everything looks fine. You may sit back up." He held out a hand to assist the boy into a sitting position. He sighed as their eyes met. "How is…he?"

Harry smiled softly at him. "Pefect."

Severus slid out a small textbook on sleeping draughts out of his robes. "For him," he murmured. Harry nodded appreciatively and set the book down beside him on the table, resting a palm protectively over it.

"He'll love you for it, sir. Thank you." Snape waved off the thanks as he pocketed his wand. He didn't deserve that love. He didn't deserve the gratitude. _He was still a monster, after all._

"Err, Sir?" Snape looked at him with an eyebrow raised questioningly. Harry struggled to find his words for a moment. "I—umm—"

"Out with it, Mr. Potter."

"Can you, could you perhaps, maybe..." Harry let out heavy sigh. "I need to get Ron Weasley and Hermione Granger a message from me, sir." Snape glared at him.

"Potter, you know very well that I made an unbreakable vow. I cannot inform your friends that you are still alive…none of us can." He added, referring to the Dark Lord's followers. He turned to leave the room when his arm was grabbed by the desperate young man.

"I know that. _I know_. But…I thought maybe you could convince HIM to bring me along to the next Hogwarts visit?" he ignored Snape's derisive snort. "I've been good, Snape. For almost three years I've done everything that was asked of me. He thinks he broke me…hell, in some ways I think he has. But I know that he'd take pleasure in breaking their spirits, seeing me as I am now; seeing me obey him…But sir, I _have_ to let them see…I need Ron and Hermione to continue looking for the last of the Horcruxes. I need them to know that—that there is still hope."

Snape surveyed him scornfully. "Let's suppose we get you to Hogwarts. Let's say he willingly brings you along to parade your submission to him before them all. What then? How will you pass a message to your friends without being _seen_ or _heard_ , Potter?" Harry bit his lip, gradually feeling more and more desperation coursing through him. He clenched his fists tightly at his sides, disregarding the pain of his nails digging into his palms.

"I—I have an idea. A plan."

"Yes, because we all know how well your _plans_ turn out, Mr. Potter." At his biting remark, Harry reeled back as if slapped. Snape closed his eyes, suddenly ashamed of himself. "I—forgive me, Potter. That was insensitive of me and…you didn't deserve it. I'll see what I can do."

With that he turned on heel once more and left the medical room. He didn't want to see the tears he had likely caused to fall from the boy's stunning green eyes.

 _Indeed…he was definitely a monster._

* * *

 **Flashback: April 4th, 1998**

"Are you afraid, my little Horcrux?" the cold voice whispered to him and Harry felt his skin prickle into goosebumps. He surpressed a shudder and raised his chin in defiance, saying nothing. Voldemort looked at him coldly.

"It's poor manners to ignore one's master, Harry. Lord Voldemort doesn't take kindly to insolence."

"You are not my 'master'!" Harry spat out at the pale figure that stood before the bed he lay on. His wrists were bound by a long chain attached to the headboard and he wore nothing but a thin robe. He figured the monster intended to humiliate him and torture him. Snape had said himself, that he might not be killed or maimed, but he would still suffer. He surpressed another shiver. He was afraid. Voldemort needn't know that though. He wouldn't give him the satisfaction of knowing his fear. Voldemort let out a high pitched laugh.

"Oh, Harry, Harry. I _am_ your master now. You carry a piece of my soul in that scrawny little body of your's which makes you _my_ property. I will not kill you now, Harry…but rest assured, Lord Voldemort has ways to make you submit." His smile grew more vicious as Harry glowered at him.

"I will never submit to you, you ugly—" he was cut off by a harsh slap to his cheek. The man was much closer now, with his wand drawn and pointed at Harry. He braced himself for a punishing hex but never came. Instead he found his body bared before the man, the cool air tickling his naked limbs. "What the fuck are you-!" another slap, this time to his thigh and Harry let out a gasp as he was yanked around violently to lay prone on the bed. Maybe Voldemort planned to whip him into submission. He had done so on the second day he was captured. The psycho said he enjoyed watching him bleed…and if treated, it wouldn't leave permanent damage. Harry braced himself for the lash of the whip but that too, never came.

Instead, he felt the bed dip as Voldemort's lithe body crawled over his. Harry scrambled the best he could to get away from the snake-faced man but with his arms chained to the bed he had no success. Voldemort shifted behind him slightly and then Harry felt something wet prod his—oh fuck no—

"Please don't, _please_!" Harry found himself begging as the pressure increased, pinching his hole. For once, he didn't care if he sounded desperate or weak. _This couldn't be happening._ This was some sick and twisted nightmare and soon he'd wake up! He felt himself split open as the head of the Dark Lord's shaft slipped through the tight muscle of his body and Harry let out an undignified scream into the pillow below him.

Long fingers threaded tightly through his hair and yanked his head back. "No, Harry Potter. I want to hear you scream. It hurts doesn't it? You are so tight, you've never been breached like this before, have you?"

Harry sobbed as the man slid further into him, his muscles quivering around the member, trying to resist the intrusion to no avail. This was _awful_. Why would people ever _willingly_ do this? He felt the stinging at his entrance and knew he was bleeding. The Dark Lord pulled back—a moment of relief—and then slammed so hard into Harry causing him to let out another sob.

"Please don't do this, _please_ …" he groaned out. His dignity no longer was a priority in his panicking mind. All Harry could do was wish the pain would stop. All he could think of was this man, the man who killed his parents and so many others, was raping him…was stealing the last bit of innocence Harry had left. And it fucking _hurt_. " _Stop…please stop_ …"

The thrusting sped up. "You beg so prettily, Harry," Voldemort grounded out, his breathing more erratic now. "You cry and bleed so beautifully. This pleases your _master_ —" With that, the man let out a low growl and snapped his hips deeply into Harry's body as he released. Harry clenched his teeth as a few more tears slipped down his face. He felt Voldemort withdraw from his body and slip off the bed. Harry found himself unable to look back at the man that did this to him.

"Lost that Gryffindor bravery, Harry?" came the raspy voice behind him. "It's only a matter of time before you find it again. Maybe when your little arse stops bleeding?" Harry's fists clenched tightly in their shackles. Voldemort chuckled softly. "Ahh, there it is. The defiance of a lion even _after_ he's been bit by a snake. No matter for me Harry, I've found another way to make you obey."

Harry still couldn't look at him but he willed himself to speak. "You think doing…doing this to me will make me obey you? I despise you, Voldemort. That will _never_ change." The slap on his backside made Harry jump and he winced as an arsecheek was grabbed roughly, nails digging in to the soft flesh. "You will submit to me, Harry. You will obey me without question…After all, I'm the father of the child that's now forming inside your belly."

Harry shook his head out of disbelief. _This man was absolutely insane!_

"Magic can perform wonders, my naïve little Horcrux…I am assuming you didn't know there were conception potions for men? A little stick of a needle and forty-eight hours later, a male's body is ready to conceive."

Harry's blood ran cold.

 _Snape_.

...

Voldemort walked out of the room after one last look at the stunned boy laying naked on the bed. The way his body shivered; the sight of his seed mixed with blood oozing from the boy's abused body. _Delicious_.

The Dark Lord proceeded to make his way to the parlor, the pale faces of the Malfoys lowering as he entered the room.

"I want him fed and groomed properly. You shall report any…wrongdoings of his to me, immediately." After a collective murmer of "Yes, my lord" from the blond aristocrats, Voldemort made his leave from the heavily warded manor.

 _Yes, Potter would learn to submit and obey. Now he had incentive. Love and family, after all, was the brat's greatest weakness._

…

A few moments had passed in silence amongst the Malfoys. Lucius shared a long look with his wife before he looked over to his son, the teenager's face was ghostly white. Draco had heard Potter's sobs, his broken cries as he pleaded with the Dark Lord. He had heard the muffled begging because the Dark Lord wanted them all to hear it.

In the years he had served as a Death Eater, rape was not uncommon during raids and captures. Although, Lucius never participated out of his own familial values and love for his wife. He wasn't a good man, this he knew. He had failed on more than one occasion to protect the only thing that mattered to him: his wife and son. They had suffered because of his actions, and Draco was given an impossible task in order to punish him…he pushed the dangerous thoughts from his head.

However, he never heard of the Dark Lord raping anyone. If Lucius were to be honest, he had thought the man impotent. _Clearly not_. Tried as he might, nothing would get the muffled cries and begging from Potter out of his head.

"Lucius," Narcissa murmured as she gently touched his arm. He looked at her silently, wishing more than anything, for her and Draco to be safe at home or their villa in Paris—anywhere but here. "Severus said 'forty-eight hours' after he examined the boy."

She then guided their son out of the room, saying nothing more. She didn't need to.

Lucius understood.

 **A/N:**

Poor Harry...unfortunately it'll only get worse for him.  
Until next time!  
xx  
-Drarryfan322


	3. Chapter 3

**July 8** **th** **, 2002 (present day)**

"I think it may be time to…reveal you to the public, my little _Horcrux_." Harry's head shot up in surprise. _Good job, Snape._ His heart began beating a tattoo in his chest, and he willed it to calm.

"May—may I ask why, my Lord?" Harry whispered. Voldemort lazily tapped his fingers on the armrest of his large chair.

"Severus seems to think some of the mudbloods and blood traitors remain… _hopeful_ that you're out there somewhere, waiting to save the day _once_ again. I want to squash that hope…I want them to see you as you are now, so submissive, so compliant, to _me_. My perfect little whore; you won't be saving anybody."

Harry had to swallow the bile that rose in his throat inconspicuously. "If—if that would please you, my Lord."

"Look at me, Harry." Harry met his eyes briefly before lowering them once more. Voldemort let out a smug laugh. "See? _So submissive_. Yes, I think it is time." He then opened his robes and unzipped his trousers. "Crawl over here and please your master," he demanded lowly. Harry moved from his spot on the floor, shifting onto his hands and knees as he crawled obediently to the Dark Lord.

 **…**

Harry spit the minty toothpaste into the sink. It was the fourth time he had brushed his teeth in the past twenty minutes but he didn't think it'd ever be enough to feel clean. He knew very well by now that nothing about him would ever again be _clean_. There was a knock at the door as he dried his mouth on a hand towel.

"Come in," Harry called out, knowing that if someone was showing this type of courtesy to him, then they were safe to act more…freely. Voldemort was gone.

"Harry?" he smiled at the platinum blonde head that appeared behind him in the mirror as the door opened. The boy came into the room and shut the door. The bathroom was still humid from the scalding shower he took and his long hair was dripping all over his place.

Draco rolled his eyes in mild exasperation. "Good lord, Potter. Look at your hair."

Harry grinned sheepishly and shrugged his shoulders. "I brushed it! You know I'm lousy at doing well, anything with my hair. I was waiting for you." Draco huffed and grabbed a comb off the vanity.

"For the hundredth bloody time, Potty, you do not _brush_ wet hair; you comb it. Hair is weaker when it's wet. It causes breakage when you rake a brush through it like a _Neanderthal_ ," the youngest Malfoy grumbled scornfully.

"Combing takes too long." Harry sighed, wishing he could just cut it. Draco rapped the comb on top of his head in admonition before working it through his hair gently. Harry would take it to his grave, but he didn't mind so much anymore when the other boy's skilled hands worked to tame his stubborn hair.

There was a time when Harry hated the idea of the Malfoy heir simply breathing in the same room as him. They had been forced together; Draco given orders to ensure he ate and drank and stayed safe, and groomed in the ways the Dark Lord preferred: his hair long, his body smooth, his eye sight corrected…like he was supposed to be some bloody doll for Voldemort to play with, instead of just _Harry._ He had put up a fight at first, unable to see past their schoolboy rivalry and allow the equally reluctant Draco Malfoy to assist him with those things.

In the beginning they had called each other foul names; they exchanged glares and jibes and—strangely enough, it started to make Harry feel alive again. Long after the insults had lost much of their bite, Draco still made him feel _alive_. Whether it was a fleeting glance, a linger of a hand, or his constant sarcastic teasing, Harry found it was the blonde's company that helped him keep his sanity this whole time.

He smiled wistfully.

Draco finished pulling his damp hair into a simple braid down his back. "Are you okay? The Dark Lord never…visits…you twice in a week."

Harry turned around abruptly to face him. Draco arched an eyebrow at the raven haired boy, schooling his sharp features in apparent aloofness, but Harry could see concern in the grey eyes. "Yeah, I'm fine." The eyes narrowed slightly. "He's going to take me to Hogwarts, Draco."

Draco furrowed his brow. "Why, in _Merlin's name,_ would he do that? I thought the point of all of _this_ was to convince the world you were dead?"

Harry shrugged, feeling guilty for not alerting the other boy of his plan. He knew though, that Draco would definitely not support him in this. "…He wants to break their spirits and what better way to do so than have me submit to him in front of them all?"

Draco let out a long breath. "I'm…shit, Harry, I'm sorry."

Harry leant up into him then, and let his lips brush against Draco's jaw softly. "Don't worry…It'll be okay." Draco made a strangled noise in his throat and wrapped an arm tightly around Harry's waist, pulling the slightly shorter boy to his chest. He buried his nose in Harry's neck and breathed in deeply.

"I want…"

"Me too."

Another sigh and Draco pulled back, his long perfected mask of indifference in place once more.

"He's waiting for you to tell him a story about the boy who fought a Dragon, you know."

Harry laughed, "I didn't fight it, really. I flew around trying not to get bloody fried! Actually the dragon was more the victim, as I stole one of her eggs. Fake or not, she thought it was her baby."

Draco nudged him out of the bathroom. "Yes, but in my version the dragon broke out of its' chains and chased the boy around, smashing through buildings and wreaking havoc on civilians."

"Sounds dangerous. And did the boy slay the dragon?"

"I haven't decided yet. I _do_ like dragons."

"I thought you liked the boy, too."

"Hmm…Perhaps I'll add a third character to the tale…A gallant knight rushes in, saves the boy and tames the wayward dragon. They'll fly away on the dragon's back, into the sunset and _live happily ever after._ " It was meant to be sardonic, but Harry could sense the traces of longing in Draco's words.

Harry smiled brilliantly at him, "I like that version… _you_ should tell him the story instead."

"…and then," Draco continued slyly, "The boy rewards his knight in shining armor with hot, passionate—" He was cut off with a half-hearted shove to the chest.

"Save that version for my ears only, would you?" Harry said, chuckling. His face felt heated but his heart felt lighter than it had all day.

It had taken a long time for him to allow himself to feel, well, whatever _this_ was for Draco. Draco made him feel free, even in this prison.

Draco, who could infuriate him one minute and make him laugh the next. The prat could insult Harry and charm him in the same breath.

Draco, who wanted Harry, even as fucked up as he was.

And Harry desperately wanted him back.

* * *

 **April 4** **th** **, 1998**

Potter was laying on his stomach and chained to the bed by his thin wrists when Lucius slipped into the dimly lit room. He made a point to ignore his nudity and the _condition_ the Dark Lord left the boy's body in. Potter's shoulders that had been previously shaking from quiet sobs, tensed up as he heard the door open once more.

Sliding his wand from his cane, Lucius waved it once to break the boy free from his shackles. Hesitantly Potter's messy black head of hair rose up to look at him. Upon seeing Lucius, the Boy-Who-Lived flushed and lowered his red-rimmed eyes in mortification.

"Can you stand, Potter?" Lucius ask him stoically. Slowly, the young man rose to his knees, hands fluttering to cover himself in a desperate attempt to preserve his last bit of modesty. The boy winced and inched his way towards the edge of the bed.

Without waiting for Potter to stand, Lucius strode into the adjoining bathroom and turned on the tap with another quick flourish of his wand. The water started pouring from the faucet and steam accumulated in the room. Potter, whose hands were still held in front of himself, peered through the doorway looking uncertain. His eyes and lips were swollen from crying and Lucius jerked his head in the direction of the porcelain tub.

"Get in, Potter." Potter shuffled into the lavatory sideways, in way that suggested he was trying to keep his backside shielded from Lucius, as well as his genitals.

"For the love of _Merlin_ , Potter, you haven't got anything I've never seen before." The boy glared through his glassy eyes at him, the pinkness in his cheeks rising. Sighing, Lucius wheeled around to face the wall. "Hurry up, then."

Bare feed padded across the room swiftly and then Lucius heard the splash of water as the boy stepped into the tub, hissing in pain as he was lowering himself down into the warm water. Lucius grimaced slightly before the mask slipped into place once more and he turned back around. There was a silver vanity to the right of the tub and Lucius sank himself gracefully into the padded chair.

"Wash yourself quickly, Potter," Lucius said in a reserved drawl. Potter looked at him in a look that was a blend of reproach and discomfort.

"You're staying?" he bit out uneasily.

"I have orders," Lucius replied plainly.

Potter said nothing as he lathered his hair with shampoo and rinsed the suds out. Afterwards, the boy sat there in the tub, stiff and unsure.

Lucius suppressed a sigh. "Your body too, Potter."

Nodding once, the boy's shaking hands worked a sponge along his body, desperate to rid himself of the blood and semen that dried on his thighs, looking ashamed and humiliated. The sponge then lingered on his abdomen, and Potter suddenly looked like he was about to cry again. He clenched his teeth and threw the sponge furiously into the water, watching with a wretched look as it sank down slightly from the force before bobbing back afloat.

Lucius stood and handed Potter a towel that he used hurriedly to cover his body. Lucius turned on heel and walked back into the bedroom. From the dresser that sat against one wall, Lucius pulled out undergarments and pajamas. Potter, who had followed him dutifully, clutched his towel to his waist in one fist and with his other hand reached out for the clothing.

Lucius withheld them from the boy and gestured to the bed. "Sit." Potter's brow furrowed momentarily as he walked to the edge of the bed, his gait slightly affected from the Dark Lord's…treatment. Lucius wanted nothing more than to leave as the boy winced and sat down on the bed.

Lucius set the clothes down on the dresser and pulled out his wand once more. Potter eyed him nervously.

"Remove the towel."

Potter let out a strangled noise and shook his head wildly. Lucius pinched the bridge of his nose in irritation…He understood. He wasn't completely heartless. The boy was terrified and had every right to be. He should be. But while he was many things, Lucius Malfoy wasn't a rapist of teenaged boys.

"I am not going to _hurt_ you, Potter. Just do as I say."

A bold gleam appeared back into Potter's eyes. "Or you'll restrain me?" he spat out. Lucius glared back at him.

"Or I will restrain you."

The surly Gryffindor surprised him then, as he yanked the towel from his body. He flushed again in embarrassment, but his demeanor didn't deflate.

" _Aufero capillus."_

The boy jumped and scrambled for his towel once more in mortification. "What the _fuck—"_

Lucius raised an eyebrow in disdain for the young man's language.

"I have orders, Potter." Potter glowered at him. He handed the boy the clean clothing from the dresser whom in turn snatched it rudely from his hands. _Abysmal upbringing, clearly._

Once the boy was dressed, Lucius stared down at the young man with a frosty glint in his grey eyes. "The Dark Lord," he began, "wishes for my son to make sure you are properly _groomed_ every day, to his—ah— _liking_. You will allow Draco to complete this _task_ without issue, Potter, or you will answer to the Dark Lord, himself." He wheeled around to leave then, more than eager to remove himself from this situation. He waved his wand at the bathroom door, locking it silently on his way out.

"Why isn't he here then?"

Lucius looked at him exasperatedly. "Pardon?"

"Why are you here then, instead of your _son?"_ The boy grounded out. Lucius surveyed the green eyes stonily before turning back to the door, not intending to answer the question.

Realization dawned on the brunette. "You didn't want him to see." Potter stated simply.

Lucius grasped the door knob tightly. "I didn't want him to see," he confirmed.

He left, shutting the door tightly behind him.

" _Colloportus."_

Notes: Aufero capillus- literally-remove hair  
Colloportus- locking spell I hope Lucius wasn't too crazy OOC. I am a Lucius Malfoy lover so you're not going to get a demonized version of him. He's made a ton of mistakes and he's plagued by old prejudices, yes. Nevertheless, he loves his wife and son, and desperately wants to protect them. Plus, seeing a boy your son's age raped and impregnated by the man keeping your family essentially imprisoned will screw with any parent's head. Also, I'm aware that the Drarry moment seems random but it'll make sense eventually. Do keep in mind that this relationship they have now has developed over the course of 4 years. It's also a very secret relationship, because well, Voldemort is a psychopath. However, they do have feelings for each other and you'll see more of the nature and depth of their relationship in future chapters. Reviews are welcomed!


	4. Chapter 4

**July 8** **th** **, 2002**

"So the valiant knight—"

"What's 'va-valant' mean, Draco?" the little boy asked curiously; he sat up straighter as he cocked his head to the side and his brown hair cascaded in a curtain just above his shoulders. Draco sent him a reproachful look and the little boy lowered his head apologetically.

"My apol-gies, sir. I meant to say _excuse me._ "

"Much better," Draco murmured. " _Valiant_ means brave. Say it, Hyperion, _valiant."_

"Valiant!" Hyperion said proudly. Draco smiled softly.

"Good boy." Behind the young child, Harry rolled his eyes at the exchange. He shifted the kid slightly on his lap and kissed the top of his head.

"He's _three,_ " Harry defended. Draco sent him a scathing look.

"'One is never too young to mind one's manners, Daddy.'" Hyperion parroted. Harry rolled his eyes again but hugged his son tightly.

"Yes, that's true my little love," was all Harry said, pointedly ignoring Draco's smug smirk.

"So, the valiant knight took his damsel in his arms—"

" _NOT_ a damsel—!"

"Say 'excuse me' Daddy!" Hyperion interjected.

"Oh for the love of—!"

"Would you let me finish my story, you ill-mannered plebian?"

"Excuse me, what is a ' _plebian,'_ Draco?"

Harry groaned.

 **...**

"I hate you, you know." Harry grumbled at the blonde boy as they shut Hyperion's bedroom door with a quiet _click._ They turned on heel together and walked down the hallway side by side. Draco smirked his trademark smirk.

"No you don't." Harry scowled but conceded begrudgingly.

"No, I don't. But I _do_ think you're an arrogant ponce that's pushing your pureblooded mannerisms onto my son. For heaven's sake, Draco, he doesn't act like a normal three-year-old boy!" Draco whipped around and pinned Harry with a furious glare.

"Do _not_ forget who his other father is, Potter," Draco hissed at him and Harry bit his own lip. "and look around you. _None of this_ isn't normal for a three-year-old boy because he's NOT a normal three-year-old boy! He's growing up in exile and _fear_. He doesn't have toys or socialization besides us, my parents, and _occasionally_ Severus. It's a shame. I wish to the fucking _gods_ that things were different for him…What's the problem here, Harry? The fact that Hyperion behaves like a pureblood instead of an abrasive, foolhardy Gryffindor, like yourself? Is that really such a bad thing? Is my influence on him really that _terrible_ to you?" Harry sighed and put his hands up in what he hoped was a placating manner.

"No. _No,_ Draco. I'm sorry. I think it's remarkable how _articulate_ he is, how refined he is at his age…it's not a bad thing at all. I think it's great, really." He sighed.

"You're projecting then." Draco said, more gentle this time. Well, gentle for Draco.

Harry felt like something inside his chest was trying to break out. "I just… _fuck_ , I just wish he could have a _normal_ childhood. As miserable as my own childhood was, I don't want this for him. I hate this, I hate it all. I just want to take him and _you_ and your parents, and _run._ But that's not possible. It might never be possible…" Harry's shoulders slumped and he ripped open his own bedroom door, desperate to hide the tears that traitorously threatened to fall from the Slytherin. He wasn't so lucky though, as Draco was on his heels in an instant, refusing to let Harry shut him out. He grabbed the boy by his upper arm and wheeled him around, shoving him unceremoniously against the wall of the bedroom.

"Don't you fucking _dare_ do this to yourself, Harry," Draco said, his face too close, his eyes too stern, as he looked at the other boy. "This is out of our control. We do the best we can with the situation we were put in. Besides, _you_ grew up in a cupboard with muggles that despised you. Hyperion might live in hapless circumstances but he has _us._ He has people who care about him, that teach him, that stimulate his mind. Perhaps it's not as much as we'd want for him, but it's _something_. Don't you _dare_ let it get to you. For Hyperion's sake. Don't let the Dark Lord break you. Not now. Not ever."

Harry swallowed the lump in his throat and nodded at Draco who let him off the wall and pulled him to him, the long fingers digging slightly in Harry's narrow hips. He let his lips graze Draco's collar bone in a gentle kiss; a silent thanks. "I just want him to have a damn _toy_. Even I had a couple of Dudley's rejects. I want him to be a child. It's not too much to wish, is it?" Harry mumbled into his shoulder. Draco sighed.

"No, it's not." He brought a hand up and brushed a strand of hair out of Harry's face. The braid was starting to unravel. Harry's hair would never stay tame for long. It could be subdued at times, but remained stubborn through and through. Like Harry, himself—it was stronger than any suppressor. "If you want a toy for him, Harry," Draco whispered, "we'll get him a toy."

Harry's green eyes looked up at him, the intensity mesmerizing. "How?"

"I'll find a way." Harry smiled half-heartedly.

"Oh, great Slytherin prince, I forgot how omnipotent you are."

"…don't you forget it."

Harry snorted and hooked his fingers through Draco's trousers. Smug prat. "I have to get ready for bed. Which means at some point in the next five minutes I'll be very, very naked. You're welcome to look as you please. Besides, I never got you a birthday present last month."

Draco's smirked, a devilish glint in his grey eyes. "My parents are still awake."

"Then we'll have to be quiet, won't we?"

"Tch, I'll have to cast a silencing charm on you, then."

"Most probably."

* * *

 **April 5** **th** **, 1998**

"Would you kindly _eat_ , already?" Draco snapped, getting fed up with Potter's stubbornness. His rival had fought him tooth and nail from the time he woke up. They had argued over the clothing Draco pulled out for him that morning; he didn't even want to comb his messy mop of hair, the slob. Draco ended up using a sticking charm to hold Potter hostage long enough to yank a hairbrush through it. _That_ head been futile. Potter's hair was fucking hopeless. Draco should've been in school studying for his NEWTS, not sitting in this lousy manor, in isolation, to be Harry- _bloody_ -Potter's babysitter.

"Would you kindly _fuck off_ , already?" Harry hissed back, looking up from the still-full plate he had been staring at tiredly to glare spitefully at the youngest Malfoy. Draco's eyes flashed and he made to stand up angrily but was stilled by a stern hand on his arm. His father shot him a warning look and he was subdued enough to remain where he was. Across from him, his mother spoke in her usual graceful tone.

"I hardly think such banter is necessary at the dining table," she murmured. Potter's eyes flickered to her, angry, but less hatefully. She gazed back at him unwaveringly, every bit of the strong pureblooded woman she was, despite their situation. "Mr. Potter, would I be correct in my assumption that you find your eggs unappealing at this time?" Harry's eyes lowered and he nodded, the knot that had been in his stomach clenching in an attempt to calm his nausea. Narcissa nodded at his confirmation. "Tilly!"

A soft pop later, and a house elf appeared in the room in a bow so deep, it's nose almost touched the floor. "What can Tilly do for Mistress Malfoy?" Narcissa kept her eyes on the brunette, not even sparing a glance at the elf.

"Tilly, bring Mister Potter some toast and ginger tea. Decaffeinated. He will not be having eggs until further notice," she told the elf.

"Of course, Mistress, Tilly will bring it in immediately!" Tilly nodded, ears flapping as she bowed once more and disappeared from the room.

"Ginger tea will help to settle any nausea you may be experiencing. It is…unlikely we would be permitted to provide you any potions to assist." Harry nodded again, his cheeks flushing in embarrassment, loathing the attention that was being drawn to his...condition. "Furthermore," Narcissa continued firmly, "you will make it a priority to eat each meal, every day. If something doesn't sit well with you, alert us and we will find alternatives, but you _will_ eat, Mister Potter." She left no room for argument, her manner was absolute. At the teen's acknowledging nod, she returned to her breakfast in silence.

 **...**

"He's going to get us all punished…or _killed_!" Draco said angrily, flinging himself into the chair in front of his father's desk. The office was smaller and less ornate than the one at Malfoy Manor. Draco desperately missed their magnificent home in Wiltshire. It might've felt lonely at times, but it was home. Lucius bit back a groan and looked up at his petulant son.

"Draco, cease. I am not in the mood to listen to you gripe about the Potter boy today." Draco scowled to himself and folded his arms over his chest moodily. Lucius glared at him. "You will wipe that look off your face, uncross your arms, and sit up straight. You were raised better than that."

Draco did as he was told, not wanting to get on his father's bad side. "Father," he said quietly, "Mother said that Potter was… _impregnated_ by the Dark Lord. That _that's_ why he refused to eat breakfast." Lucius slowly put his quill in the holder on the desk.

"He was." Lucius said, looking at his heir steadily.

"Why?" Draco whispered.

"It is not up to us to question the Dark Lord, Draco. So _cease,"_ Lucius said sternly. He ignored the weight in his chest that had been growing heavier all night and morning long.

"It's disgraceful." Lucius stood abruptly and rounded the desk towards his teenager who flinched slightly at the brisk action. He grabbed the boy by his shoulders and shook him firmly.

" _Draco Lucius Malfoy_ , you will obey me or face consequences, do you understand me?" Lucius grounded out. At Draco's fervent nod, Lucius eased his hold on him. "Listen to me son, I will do whatever is in my power to protect this family. Potter, regardless of how… _unpleasant_ his situation may be, is not my primary concern. You and your mother are. I— _we_ —must follow the orders given to us without question. Keep your opinions to yourself. _Nous sommes tous en danger. Je ne supporte pas de te perdre, mon fils._ " (1)

Draco swallowed at his words. So his father was every bit as concerned as he was. Draco knew Lucius blamed himself for his failures at the end of his fifth year and during his imprisonment he didn't take the news of Draco's task to kill Albus Dumbledore well at all; his mother admitted to him that much. Draco had had a difficult time conceiving the notion of his _proud_ , pureblooded father regretting anything. His entire life his parents had both behaved with such grace and finesse. They never showed ambiguity, let alone fear. His father, who was the epitome of an aristocrat, was afraid.

" _Oui, père. Je comprends_." (2)

* * *

 **April 12** **th** **, 1998**

"Good lord, Potter. On the floor? You couldn't wait for me to unlock the bathroom first?" Draco grumbled with a disgusted sneer.

Harry raised his glazed eyes at the blonde, a shaky hand wiping his sweaty fringe away from his forehead. "I can't fucking _control_ it, Malfoy. My stomach won't settle and the ginger tea isn't working!" Harry griped bitterly. With a wave of his wand, Draco cleaned the mess on the floor and unlocked the bathroom door. He watched as Potter jumped to his feet and launched himself into the bathroom and onto the floor before the toilet and heaved. Draco sighed and tried dreadfully to ignore the sound of the Boy-Who-Lived retching as he turned on the shower.

Harry willed his stomach to stop lurching, to stop forcing him to throw up _nothing_ by now, but the bile in his stomach. His throat was burning by the time it stopped and he stood up weakly by the sink to brush his teeth, feeling humiliated that Draco Malfoy was carefully watching him.

"Mother says it's normal."

Harry had to do a double take at Malfoy. Was Malfoy really trying to be helpful right now? "Excuse me?"

Draco scoffed and crossed his arms defensively. "My. Mother. Said. Your. Morning. Sickness. Is. Normal. Potty." He said as if Harry was slow. Harry glared.

"Don't call me that, Malfoy! And don't call it—'morning sickness'!"

"That's what it is, isn't it?" Before now, Malfoy had made it a point to avoid mentioning Harry's condition. The only thing that Malfoy ever did, that Harry appreciated. Aside from getting himself turned into a ferret, of course. That had been brilliant.

Harry mirrored Draco's stance, arms crossed guardedly over his torso. "Will you turn around so I can shower, now, or are you planning on staring at me like a creep?" Harry retorted, ignoring the question. Draco snorted and rolled his eyes, wheeling around to stare precariously at the wall. He heard Potter shuffle around to undress and climb into the shower stall.

"Like I haven't seen it already, Potter. You forget who has to ' _groom'_ you. I wish you could have a wand for the sole purpose of spelling your own hair off your scrawny—"

" _Shut up_ , you bloody _git_!" Harry growled, his neck and face erupting into a flush. He _wish_ he had a wand, just so he could hex Malfoy into _oblivion_. His life was in shambles, he was in Hell, and now he had Malfoy, of all people, seeing him naked and vulnerable. He wished Malfoy would leave so he could drown himself in the tub. But of course, he assumed that was why he wasn't allowed into the bathroom without supervision to begin with.

 _Suicide_. He felt like a coward at even thinking the word. As many times as Harry prayed for death in the past two weeks, he knew he never could end his own life. He had to be the one to 'vanquish the Dark Lord'…but how? Dumbledore was dead, Hogwarts and the Ministry had fallen under the Dark's control, Ron and Hermione were _God knows where_ …and now, now he was _pregnant_ with Voldemort's _child_. He felt like he was going to vomit again. Never in his life, had Harry felt so utterly lost.

He finished his shower and wrapped a towel around his body, concealing his stomach from view. It looked no different than before, albeit slightly bloated. He couldn't bring himself to stare for long. It was all too real. The tears prickled his eyes and he deduced that was the reason for Malfoy avoiding his gaze.

"You're a prick, Malfoy." He muttered.

"Prat," Draco retorted.

"Ponce!"

"Plebian."

"Poofter." Draco glowered.

"Pillow-biter." That one hit way too close to home and a lump formed in Harry's throat but he refused to let Malfoy best him at his own game.

"P-Pygmy Puff!" Okay, he was reaching.

Malfoy cocked an eyebrow condescendingly. "Pussy."

"Ugh-fuck! Penis-puffer!" Harry blurted out. Malfoy snorted and shook his head.

Harry's heart was beating hard in his chest. Fuck, was he having fun? Of course he, was. He was insulting Malfoy. That was always fun. At least Malfoy was good for something.

"That was _Pathetic, Potty._ "

Damn it.

"Err..."

"All out?"

Harry frowned, feeling disappointed at his defeat.

"You can't out-do a Slytherin in _insults,_ Potter. We excel at those. And well, everything else of course." Arrogant twit.

"That's bullshit. Other houses excel at a lot too, and you know it," Harry argued.

"Hmm, perhaps," Malfoy said. Harry's eyebrows rose to his hairline. "Ravenclaws excel at being insufferable know-at-alls, Gryffindors excel at being foolhardy airheads, and Hufflepuffs excel at being _utterly incompetent_ dunderheads-"

"Well, Slytherins excel at being arrogant, conniving, snobby, _slimy—"_ he was cut off when Malfoy yanked his towel off, leaving him bare naked and cold.

 _"Aufero capillus."_

"Fuck you, Malfoy."

"Not interested."

* * *

 **July 9th**

"How'd you get this?" Harry whispered longingly.

"It was..er…it may have been in my trunk."

Harry gaped, astounded. "It's yours? Oh my _God_ , that's adorable…are you blushing?"

"Shut it, Potter. Do you want it or not?"

"What's her name?"

"It's a boy."

"Yep, _adorable_."

"I swear Potty, if you don't shut it, I will put it away forever and _obliviate_ you."

"Sorry! Sorry…" Harry soothed. "Does _he_ have a name?"

"…I'm leaving. Give him back."

Harry clutched it to his chest tightly. "No! Please. Hyperion with love it!"

Draco looked incredibly embarrassed and Harry was basking in the fact that for once, he wasn't the butt of the joke. He was also very…touched by the blonde's gesture.

"…Fine. His name is Draco."

Harry couldn't help his snicker. "Of course it is!"

"I was a toddler! I didn't have a huge vocabulary. I knew the meaning of my name, however. So, I called him Draco."

"…"

"Suck it, Potter."

"…"

"I abhor you, Potty."

"Draco?"

"What!"

"Thank you so much. Really. It means a lot to me."

"…You're welcome, then. Tell me how he likes it." Harry grabbed Draco's arm and thrust the stuffed Dragon at his chest.

"No—you give it to him. It should come from you." Draco regarded him silently, glancing down at his childhood toy. It had been his favorite when he was two, and he kept it with him even after twenty years, hidden in a secret compartment at the bottom of his trunk.

"No, you give it to him. You should give it to him. It's the first and only toy he'll likely ever get, Harry. Give it to him."

Harry shook his head again. "He knows I love him, Draco. I tell him every morning and every night. I don't need a toy to express it. I—I know you love him too. No, wait!" He added hastily as Draco opened his mouth to interrupt. "I know you Slytherins like to quell your damn emotions like they're a taboo. You don't have to defend yourself to me. You don't have to say it. Just give it to him. Show him what you can't bring into words."

"I—I'll give it him…if it'll bloody shut you up." Harry smiled.

"It probably won't."

A groan, "I know."

 **…**

"Hyperion?" Draco steeled himself as he knelt down to be closer to eye-level with the young boy. He pulled out the stuffed dragon from his pocket and presented it to him. He watched as the green eyes grew wide as saucers.

"The dragon from your story!" he gasped, amazed.

"This was mine as a child, I thought maybe you'd like to keep him safe for me."

"I-I can keep him here? With me?"

"As…as long as you take good care of him and your father allows it, you may keep him." The little boy peered up hurriedly at his daddy, who was leaning against the doorway with sparkling eyes.

"Daddy? May I keep the dragon? Please?"

"Of course, sweetheart. What do you say to Draco? It's very nice of him to give you a present."

"Oh, thank you, Draco, thank you! I'll be really good and keep him safe and keep him from the bad man, too." He launched himself at the blonde-haired man, his little arms wrapped around his neck. Draco patted his back gently.

Harry came into the room and knelt beside Draco. "Baby, you must not call him that. He's—he's your father. He expects you to call him 'my Lord' and you will continue to do so when he is present." Hyperion pulled back from Draco, peering at his daddy with a solemn expression on his little face.

"I know daddy, I will. But he's not here right now. And he _is_ a BAD man…he's _not_ my father."

Harry sighed tiredly and shared a look with Draco.

 _From the mouth of babes._

* * *

Notes: (1) We are all at risk/in danger. I cannot stand losing you, my son.  
(2) Yes, father. I understand. I don't speak a lick of French so I apologies if the translations are wrong.  
I also understand Hyperion is kind of eloquent for three. (Trust me, I know. I have a three-year-old.) But the kid has been read textbooks and told stories his entire life, so I imagine he'd have a larger vocabulary. Also, Hyperion is Scorpius Malfoy's middle name in canon. It means "High One", which makes sense because he's pretty much Harry's everything. I imagine Draco influenced the name, since it's more a pureblood-sounding name. I doubted Voldemort would like his son (no matter his lack of care or even tolerance for the child) to be named "James Sirius" or "Albus Severus" Until next time!


	5. Chapter 5

***Mentions of corporal punishment a few times in this chapter. I don't condone any of it, so no hate. Plus, in some ways, the wizarding world is very old fashioned.  
Enjoy!

 **June 5** **th** **, 1998**

"I don't want to see him," Harry muttered stubbornly as he pulled on the robe Draco handed him. The blonde sighed irritably and crossed his arms over his chest.

"You don't have a choice, Potter," he drawled. Harry huffed out a low breath.

"I never do."

Draco sighed. "None of us have a choice, Potter," he stated briskly. "Now try not to pick a fight with him. It's just a check-up. Snape reports back to the Dark Lord…don't give HIM a reason to come and punish you for disobeying. Especially in your current state."

Harry glared angrily at the floor as he slipped on his black shoes. "He doesn't give a damn about this—this child, does he?" Harry snarled bitterly.

Draco grimaced. "No, I don't think so—"

"He doesn't give a damn about _anyone, Malfoy._ No one but himself. He'll let the world burn and not blink twice. And he certainly doesn't need an heir, because he's hell-bent on living forever. So why did he do this to me? I don't fucking understand this. To torture me? To make me live with the fact that his _spawn_ is growing inside me?"

"Stop it." Draco said, giving him a harsh shove into the dresser. Harry caught himself before he fell, and growled at the Slytherin. Before he could lunge at him though, Malfoy had his upper arms in a death grip. "Don't fucking say that, Potter. It's a baby. Bloody hell, this isn't you! I get that you're a moody, brooding _bitch_ right now, but don't hate a helpless baby for simply existing. That isn't you."

Harry's heart panged with guilt at the brutal words. "You don't know a thing about me, Malfoy," Harry said sadly. Stormy grey eyes stared at him, surverying him like they could see into Harry's very soul. It was unnerving. Draco released his arms, his gaze unwavering.

"I know that you are an insufferable, hard-headed, fool of a Gryffindor," he murmured. "I know that your mouth spits out words before your brain has the opportunity to filter them. I know that you hate the color red even though you wear it proudly for your house. I know that you have an unhealthy obsession with treacle tart. I know that you throw yourself into jeopardy to save everyone else without an ounce of self-preservation. And I know that regardless of your many, many fucking faults, you're _good,_ Potter. Too _good_ , to hate an innocent child simply for who it's other parent is. That isn't you." Harry swallowed with some difficulty and said nothing in response.

What could he say to that? Malfoy almost sounded like he was concerned about Harry. Talk about unsettling. The blonde had a pink tinge of embarrassment on his pale face, indistinct, but there nonetheless.

"Severus will be here in ten minutes. He will give you your check up without any problems from you, and I'll come to collect you for breakfast." Draco said lowly as he and Harry went upstairs to the examining room. He strode gracefully with his usual mask of indifference, as if he didn't have a moment of painful honesty with his school rival moments before. _How could he just completely turn his emotions off like that_? He left Harry standing in the medical room without another word or acknowledgement.

"Hey—Malfoy!" Harry called before the blonde shut the door. A hand shot out to prevent the door for closing on him. He glanced back at Harry, an elegant eyebrow raised in a silent question.

"I know it's, um…well, Happy Birthday."

Draco stared back at him with a brief look of incredulity before he schooled his features again. "…Thanks, Potty." He left quickly, the door closing swiftly behind him.

Harry rolled his eyes. "Prat." Malfoy hadn't heard the insult, but it made Harry feel better all the same.

 **…**

When Snape showed up ten minutes later, Harry couldn't help the anger that flooded his body like lava threatening to burst from a volcano. Voldemort might've been the one to rape him, but Snape provided the potion that got him knocked up. Snape, who had made his time at Hogwarts even more difficult. Snape, who killed Albus Dumbledore in front of Harry. He clenched his fists tightly at his sides.

Snape regarded him cooly. "Lay back, Potter."

Harry scoffed and did as he told, laying back on the padded table. Snape waved his wand and Harry's robe opened to reveal his black shirt and pants. He tried to suppress the shudder that flowed through him as Snapes cool hands lifted his shirt and tugged the bottoms down to Harrys hips. The hands pressed on his stomach then, feeling the area just above his groin, up past his belly button. The bump wasn't large yet, but becoming slightly more prominent than it had been previously.

Snape looked at him briefly, black eyes with a strange emotion Harry couldn't quite place. "You're coming into the second trimester in a couple weeks. The morning sickness will hopefully dissipate around that time, although some people experience it throughout the entirety." Harry said nothing. He didn't even look at the man, finding it easier to keep his fury at bay by ignoring him completely. He didn't need to give Voldemort a reason to pay him a 'visit'.

A low sound emitted from Snape's wand as the tip dragged lightly across his abdomen. Harry jumped at the unexpected noise. It was a rapid drumming, almost like a heartbeat—

Oh.

"Is that…?" Harry whispered finally, his own heart felt like it was in his throat.

"The fetal heartbeat." Snape murmured, withdrawing his wand from Harry's stomach and pointed it to the short piece of parchment next to Harry on the table. "158 beats per minute…perfectly normal, Potter," he added as Harry's brow furrowed. The boy nodded and the opened his mouth hesitating for a second.

"Can—can I hear it again?" Snape stared at him momentarily, almost surprised at Harry's request but obliged him anyways.

He pointed his wand again and traced the bump, searching once more for the tiny heart before the spell picked up the beating. Harry closed his eyes and listened to the rhythmic sound. A heartbeat. A tiny little heartbeat…

Voldemort was a heartless bastard, but Harry wouldn't be. Draco Malfoy of all people, told Harry he was _good._ Surely this baby could be too, if Harry dared to show it love. And in that very moment on a cold padded table in the medical examination room, Harry made the resolution to love this— _his—_ child, despite of who the other father was. Voldemort, the Dursley's, Snape, all hated Harry for his very existence. Harry wouldn't be the same as them.

Eventually Snape withdrew his wand, ending the thumping sound and effectively drawing Harry out of his thoughts. When he opened his eyes, he wiped the single tear that had slipped out of his green eye hastily. Snape pocketed his wand, eyes never leaving Harry's face.

"Potter, you understand that the Dark Lord wants you to care about this child. He's banking on the notion that you'll love it, and that love will allow him to control you."

Harry sat up slowly, finally understanding. "He's going to use the baby as live bait, to keep me under his thumb," Harry mumbled, his voice breaking slightly.

Snape nodded shortly. "You know better than anyone that the Dark Lord has no qualms with hurting a child," he stated, black eyes glancing at Harry's scar. Harry felt like he was going to vomit up his supper from the previous night. "Do not give him reason to."

Harry snorted bitterly. "Why do you care what happens to me or this child? Why the fuck are you telling me all this? This is all your fault!" he bit out, anger resurfacing. Snape glared at him severely.

"It is my fault. It's my fault for keeping the knowledge you were a Horcrux from you."

Harry leaped off the table at an almost inhuman speed. "You—you _knew?"_

The professor sneered. "Of course I knew. Dumbledore informed me months before he died."

Harry shook violently, his mind reeling. " _Dumbledore knew?_ He knew and he didn't tell me?!" Harry felt like crying, the feeling of betrayal overwhelming all his senses.

"Of course he knew. He informed me because he also knew he wouldn't be able to himself, with his imminent death." Snape stated lowly.

"He knew he was doing to die?" Harry asked, voice cracking again. He leaned against the table, knees feeling weak.

Snape sighed irritably and nodded.

"How could he know you'd betray him? He trusted you!"

"He did. So much so, that he knew I'd follow his orders and kill him myself."

Harry blinked, mentally trying to process the information. "His orders…" Snape heaved another sigh.

"Yes, Potter. His orders."

"You're on Dumbledore's side." It wasn't a question.

"No, Potter. Albus Dumbledore is dead. He was a manipulative old coot, always consumed with 'the greater good' regardless of the effect it had on people's lives."

"Albus Dumbledore was a good man!" Harry defended his old Headmaster. How dare his murderer come and insult the man's memory!

"A good man indeed, but not without his faults Potter."

"So…who's fucking side are you on?" Harry hissed out.

"Yours."

Harry stared blankly. Snape pinched the bridge of his nose, looking exasperated.

"Mine?"

"Yes, you dunderheaded ingrate! Yours! You think I've spent the last seven years trying to keep your sorry hide alive to keep Albus Dumbledore happy? The prophecy said nothing about Dumbledore. It was always about you."

Harry's shoulders slumped forward slightly, as if Snape had just kicked him in the gut with his revelation.

"Potter, look at me." Harry raised his eyes slowly to meet Snape's. The black eyes bore into his, and Harry felt a familiar pressure in his mind as the man forced himself into Harry's mind. Memories flashed in his mind and he was helpless to stop them; He was seven and playing with a headless army man in the cupboard under the stairs, he was thirteen and was watching horrified as Remus Lupin's body shuddered into the form of a werewolf, he was seventeen and chained helplessly to the bed as Voldemort held him by the hair and thrusted into his body—"

"No!" Harry screamed, forcing with all his might to push the man out of his mind. The flashes stopped abruptly, and when Harry came to he was on his knees and his face was wet. Snape had taken a step back as if he was shoved and looked slightly ill. "How dare you! How fucking dare you, you bastard," Harry sobbed, his whirlwind of emotions pouring out with his treacherous tears. A hand laid firmly but gently on his back and Harry flinched away, landing on his arse and glared at the man who retreated as quickly as he came.

"Potter, you let me in too easily. You must occlude your mind or so many will die. You cannot let the Dark Lord in!" Snape said severely. Harry wiped his face furiously.

"I can't! I don't know how!" he snapped.

"I will teach you... Before bed tonight, I want you to picture a lamp."

"A lamp." Harry reiterated blankly. Snape scowled at him.

"A muggle lamp, Potter. I'm sure you are familiar. I want you to think of only a lamp. The color, the shape, does it have a shade? If so, the shape and color of that as well. Is it bright or dim? Think of nothing else."

"Why a lamp?"

"It'll clear your mind, Potter. You fall asleep every night thinking of your day, your life, your situation. The stress of it all leaves you pliant and vulnerable to the Dark Lord. The lamp provides a simple object to focus on as an alternative to those thoughts."

Harry nodded slowly.

"I cannot stress the importance of this, Potter," Snape continued as he made to leave. Harry remained on the floor, feeling to weighed down to stand.

"Snape?" Harry whispered "Do you still think it's possible to beat the 'Dark'?" Snape faced him slowly.

" _Post Tenebras Lux_." Snape murmured, before leaving Harry alone with a million thoughts and questions whirling through his head.

* * *

 **July 10** **th** **, 2002**

Ginny stretched her legs out before her on the lounge in the Gryffindor common room. She watched as George fussed around his wife, Angelina, who was currently pregnant with their first child. He was fluffing the pillows on the sofa she sat on and propping her feet onto a stool. _It must be nice,_ Ginny thought feeling somewhat guilty, _to have someone care about you so much._ Years ago she wouldn't have imagined her life to be like this.

As a younger girl, she imagined that in her twenties she'd married with a kid on the way. Sure, being permitted to fly for the Harpies was great—her dream job, really. But that was only temporary. And while she was still only twenty, she didn't have any idea what the future held for her. Everything had changed when Harry was captured and killed. They had broken up at the end of her fifth year, but Ginny had truly believed that Harry would win the war and they'd finally be able to be together freely.

A schoolgirl fairytale, really. She snorted derisively at her own thoughts.

George was sitting on the stool now, rubbing Angelina's feet. They were speaking to each other in hushed tones, perhaps discussing baby names again. Fred kept butting in that "Fred Weasley the second" would be perfect, causing his girlfriend Alicia, and Angelina to roll their eyes and George to give him a playful shove.

Trust the twins to maintain their playful spirit through it all.

 _Life went on, with or without Harry Potter,_ Ginny supposed,

 **…**

"No, doggy-man, don't be so silly!"

Lucius paused his stride down the hall as he passed Hyperion's bedroom door. The young child always had a vivid imagination. He kept himself entertained when he was alone; a necessary ability for a boy in his situation. The boy let out a giggle, "No, Dragon can't _really_ fly, Doggy!" Okay, 'Dragon' was new.

Lucius took a step back and opened the bedroom door. He stopped dead in the doorway when he saw Hyperion. The little boy jumped and his eyes grew wide as he shoved 'Dragon' behind his back, lips trembling.

"Hyperion," Lucius said sharply, walking over to the boy and kneeling down to stare at him in the eyes. "Where did you get that?" Hyperion's bright green eyes filled with tears as he clutched the toy behind his little body. When the child said nothing, Lucius grew sterner. "Young man, I expect an answer."

"I—found it?" the brunette mumbled. Lucius suppressed a sigh and got to his feet. He reached down and lifted the three-year-old into his arms, grasping the small chin firmly. His hand grew wet as the big tears rolled down Hyperion's face. "You know I do not like lying, Hyperion. That stuffed dragon belongs to Draco, doesn't it?" Slowly the boy nodded, looking heartbreakingly desperate. Lucius felt his chest clench when the child buried his face into the juncture between his neck and shoulder.

"Please don't take Dragon away, Mr. Malfoy. I love him."

 _Oh, he was going to kill his son._

 **…**

Lucius stormed down the halls of the manor, deciding how to punish _his_ Dragon, the disobedient little brat! He threw open his son's bedroom door without giving a courteous knock. Draco and Harry jumped, and looked up wide-eyed. Draco had been laying lazily on his bed and Harry sat straddling the desk chair.

"You—out!" He ground out, pointing a finger at the dark haired boy. Harry leapt up and darted out of the room obediently, sending the youngest Malfoy a worried glance on his way out. Draco sat up precariously, cool mask slipping as his father slammed the door and rounded on him.

"I should take my cane to you." Lucius hissed at him. Draco winced and shifted backwards onto the bed slightly. His father gave him no chance to speak. "You gave the child a toy you insolent boy! Are you trying to get us all killed, Draco?"

Draco swallowed hard. "No father…we thought that if—if Hyperion kept it hidden from the Dark Lord, there'd really be no harm done."

Lucius glowered at him. "Hiding things from the Dark Lord can be suicide if you're caught, son," Lucius whispered. Draco avoided his gaze, hugged his arms over his front defensively.

"We won't be caught. The Dark Lord never stops by unannounced, Father. And—and Hyperion should be able to have _one_ toy…" he finished lamely. Lucius rubbed a hand tiredly over his face. "Are—you going to…" the young man continued, eyeing the cane in his father's hand nervously.

"I should."

"I'm twenty-two, Father."

"Your point?"

Draco's face flushed in embarrassment. He coughed slightly to clear his throat.

"Are you going to take away the toy from the child?"

"I should do that too."

"Well…what will you do?" Draco mumbled.

"This." Lucius whacked his son upside his head.

"Ow!" Draco barely winced, though; his father had held back. He rubbed the back of his smarting head.

"Well, I feel better," Malfoy senior drawled.

"He can keep it, then?" Draco asked.

"What do you take me for?"

"…You're getting soft in your old age Father," Draco braved.

"Do you want me to thrash you?"

"No! My apologies, sir."

 **…**

"Your son will be the death of me," Lucius told his wife as he slid into their bed later that night.

Narcissa smiled gently, not even looking up from her book. "You've said that every year since Draco was born, my love. Yet, you are still here with me every night."

"It's only a matter of time," he murmured, pressing a kiss to her shoulder.

Narcissa chuckled and shook her head as she turned the page of her book. "What did _our_ son, do this time, Lucius?" She asked nonchalantly.

"Remember that little stuffed dragon Draco was obsessed with as a child?" Narcissa raised an eyebrow, finally looking at her husband.

"Of course."

"He gave it to Hyperion." Narcissa stiffened beside him.

"Draco is going to get himself killed," she breathed, snapping the book closed. Lucius stared at her grimly. "Did you take the toy away, Lucius?"

"…I couldn't." Lucius said reluctantly.

"You couldn't," Narcissa repeated, gazing at her husband.

Lucius said nothing as he sank deeper onto his pillows. "The child begged me not to. He cried and hugged me and pleaded me not to." He grumbled.

Narcissa looked at the man she loved since she was sixteen. Lucius had his faults, sure. He made mistakes, some mistakes so awful that they put their son in jeopardy, forcing Narcissa to plead with Severus to make an unbreakable vow to her. Mistakes that led them to being confined to this manor against their will. And while she had her family with her, together, and at the moment safe,she would never get the pleading cries of a young man being brutalized in the upstairs bedroom, nor his broken sobs on Christmas Day four years ago—

Hyperion deserved a toy, Narcissa decided silently, as she laid down next to Lucius. Shaking her head slightly, Narcissa forced the thoughts from her head. She stared into her husband's grey eyes and offered a small smirk as she caressed his chest thoughtfully.

"You're getting softer with age, love."

Lucius looked affronted at her declaration. Narcissa and Draco both, really? He rolled towards her, pressing his body up against hers. "There is absolutely _nothing_ soft about me, my beautiful wife."

Narcissa let out a breathless laugh as Lucius's lips descended onto hers.

* * *

 **August 14th** **th** **, 1998**

"You're a bloody idiot, Potter." Draco snapped at him as he wiped the blood off of Harry's back. The lashes from the whip deep and angry looking. He dipped his fingers into Snape's healing balm and rubbed it on liberally. Almost immediately the marks stopped bleeding; the welts would take some time to disappear but would leave no permanent scarring.

Harry hissed as the cool salve stung his back. "I couldn't help it," he said with contrition.

Draco's eyes glowered at Harry's naked back. "You couldn't help spitting at the Dark Lord?" He asked incredulously. Harry shook his head. "You couldn't _help_ calling him a 'snake-faced bastard'?"

"A 'pathetic snake-faced bastard', actually."

"Bloody fucking dumbarse." Draco finished and whipped his hands on a fresh towel.

"Thanks, you dolt," Harry said smiling wistfully.

"Dunderhead," Draco said, stepping closer to Harry as the brunette stood up. He sneered at him contemptuously.

"Dickhead," Harry countered.

"Dipshit."

"Douche."

"What the hell is 'douche'?" Harry grinned. "Something muggle women use to clean their—um, vaginas." Draco shuddered.

"Thank Merlin for magic," Draco muttered. "Dickweasel."

"Dicktickler."

"Dickmonger." They were standing nose to nose, challengingly.

"Dickwad."

Fuck, Draco couldn't think of anymore. He stared at Harry, his heart racing. He could feel his breath puffing, he was standing so close, waiting for Draco to reiterate. Draco couldn't lose to Potter. Without a second thought, he slammed his lips onto Harry's.

Harry froze and Draco's heart beat frantically in his chest. _Abort, abort. Bad idea, bad idea!_ Draco made to pull back, preparing to _obliviate_ Potter if necessary…and then, miraculously, the raven haired boy started kissing him back.

Draco could've died from astonishment as Harry reached tentatively around to the back of his neck to deepen the kiss. Immediately, Draco's hands snapped to slender hips to hold them tightly, his tongue cautiously flicking out to gently lick the seam of Harry's lips. The slightly younger boy responded by opening his mouth and then there was heat and tongue and roaming hands—Draco's shoulders, Harry's hair, down his sides to rest at his waist—and then they both jerked back from each other. Harry's wide green eyes lowered quickly to the small bump which he covered with shaking hands.

"Was that…?" Draco managed to croak out.

Harry nodded fervently, his lips bruised from their snog. "I've never felt it kick. Only—only little flutters before now…that was so weird." He whispered, his eyes trained on his stomach.

"Did it hurt?" Draco asked, his head tilted curiously.

"No…just a bit strange. And surprising."

Draco scoffed. "I don't think your kid likes me much, Potty."

"No one likes you much, Malfoy," Harry countered.

"Dickface," Draco drawled smugly.

"Shit!"

 _Draco: 7_

 _Harry: 0_


	6. Chapter 6

A/N: There are a lot of snippets of Drarry this chapter, to get them to the point of mutual attraction. It spans over the course of several months. So, of course you can assume there were many more moments. After all, they spend every day together in this manor. Feelings develop.

ALSO! Before you read this chapter, please make sure you've read 3, 4, and 5! I'm updating four chapters in one day. I have a couple more written that I will post soon, probably tomorrow if people seem into it. Then you can look for more weekly updates from then on out! xx

 **August 14** **th** **, 1998**

Draco Malfoy had kissed him.

Harry laid on his side in bed, the lashes from the whip not fully healed and the baby bump not permitting him to lay on his front. The pain would be there for a couple days but thanks to Snape's trusty healing salve, there'd be no permanent scarring as long as it was applied promptly enough. His brain felt fuzzy and he didn't know what to make of his situation. Draco _Bloody_ Malfoy, the bane of his existence, the great bouncing ferret, his schoolboy rival— _kissed_ him…and Harry kissed him back.

Not like the simple, closed mouth (and incredibly awkward) kiss he had with Cho Chang in fifth year, and it was nothing like his few, innocent and gentle kisses shared with Ginny last year.

No, this kiss was like lava on Harry's tongue. Hot and intense. His mouth wasn't only involved, but Harry's whole body. Malfoy's hands on his back, his hands clasped around the boy's neck, holding each other with desire. It was arousing in a way he had never felt with anyone else.

Holy Hell.

How could a person feel so much with just one kiss? How could _one_ kiss make his body tingle with pleasure, desire _, utter fucking confusion_?

This couldn't be happening. He wasn't gay. He had never felt attracted to men. Sure Charlie Weasley was a fit bloke but Harry didn't want to jump his bones. What was it about Draco Malfoy that made Harry allow that kiss…to want that kiss? What was it about that git that made Harry want to grab him and snog him again…?

Merlin help him!

Purple lamp. Purple lamp with a white shade...

If there was ever a time to clear his mind, it was now.

 **…**

"We need to talk."

"I'd rather rip off my own arm and beat you with it."

Well this was off to a great start. Harry winced as Malfoy worked a comb through his tangled mess of hair. "Can you try not be a bloody jerk for five minutes?" Harry glared at the blonde in the mirror as he scoffed and rolled his eyes.

"There is nothing to talk about."

"Malfoy—"

"Seriously, Potter. Drop it." Draco snapped, slamming the comb down on the table out of frustration. He stalked out of the bathroom with his hands clenched tightly into fists without another word to Harry. Harry sat dumbfounded in the vanity chair momentarily until his mind eventually told his legs to follow the Malfoy Heir into the bedroom. He watched as Draco snatched clothes out of the dresser, the back of his neck flushed slightly.

"Draco, it's okay—" The blonde spun around and stared at Harry like he had never seen him before in his life. The brunette bit his lip hesistantly, "what?"

Draco's grey eyes surveyed Harry quizzically. "I don't think you've ever called me by my actual name before…Don't do it again. We're not friends, Potter. We're not even _acquaintances_. You're the Dark Lord's captive and I've got to be your bloody keeper. Don't fucking think we're anything more." Draco threw the clothes onto the bed and nearly stomped over to the bathroom, slamming it shut and locking it closed. He turned back, purposefully not looking at Harry. "Get dressed, I'll be outside."

Harry watched him step out and shut the door behind him. He donned his pants and trousers, trying to ignore the sinking feeling in his chest. What was he disappointed in? Malfoy was an ignorant prat, and Harry didn't want him. He didn't want him one little bit. Plus, he wasn't even gay.

He wished he could stop lying to himself.

* * *

 **July 11** **th** **, 2002**

"Daddy, Mr. Malfoy letted me keep Dragon!" Hyperion stated as he sat with his feet swinging happily in his chair. He took a bite of his eggs with a wide grin on his face. Harry glanced at the exasperated Malfoy patriarch who was carefully avoiding eye contact with anyone as he took a sip of his water. Harry grinned slightly as his eyes swiveled back to his son.

"That's very nice of Mr. Malfoy. Did you thank him for being so nice?" He didn't have to look at Lucius to know the man was scowling at him. At Hyperion's nod he added, "good boy. Did you have fun with it, Hyperion?"

The three-year-old boy nodded again enthusiastically, "Yes, Daddy! The Doggy-man told me to make him fly but I told him he wasn't a real Dragon so I couldn't. He's always saying stuff like that. So silly!" He cackled gleefully. Harry smiled softly at the boy and pushed the small glass of orange juice towards him gently.

"I'm happy that you're happy, love. Don't forget to drink your juice." He shared a brief look with Draco, who's pale eyes had a satisfied look in them.

Harry turned back to his own breakfast, taking a bite of his toast contently.

* * *

 **July 12** **th** **, 2002**

"I have to say, Harry, that I am looking forward to our little excursion to Hogwarts next week," Voldemort ground out, thrusting savagely into Harry. Harry let out a muffled groan at a particularly hard jab. _All this time and there was still blood_ , Harry thought. But it was what Voldemort wanted. He wanted Harry to bleed and groan in pain and still submit to him completely. So Harry obliged. He had stopped fighting the man three years ago. He had made a promise he would submit, after Hyperion was born…he'd do everything he could to protect his little boy.

Hogwarts.

He had to get to Ron and Hermione. Harry was prepared for the humiliation of being revealed as Voldemort's whore. He was anxious of course; the very idea filled Harry with dread. Would they hate him when the saw what he'd become? Would they lose all faith in his character? It had been over four years since they'd seen him last. They assumed him dead...Hermione and Ron wouldn't know the terms of his imprisonment. They wouldn't understand that Voldemort held Hyperion over his head as a constant looming threat of what he'd lose if he stepped too far over the line. The idea of Harry having a son would never so much as cross their minds. His friends, classmates, the dismantled Order of the Phoenix would only see him submissive to Voldemort, never fathoming it to be an act.

Trying to get a message to them could end disastrously…so Harry could not fail. They could hate him all they wanted, as long as they helped him too.

Voldemort had had control for far too long. He had killed and tortured and maimed in the name of his 'Dark Reign'.

Harry couldn't let people suffer at his hands any longer. His plan had to work. Failure was not an option.

Voldemort grunted, his hips moving unevenly as he neared completion. _Please hurry up._ Harry should've been used to it, and in some ways he was…but after all this time, the pain of being raped was still there. A physical and mental agony.

"I look forward to all of your once-supporters witnessing your submission to me. What will they think, when they realize you've been presenting this arse to me all these years…Crying out and whimpering like a wanton slut as I claim you?" Voldemort whispered wetly into his ear. Harry had to suppress the shudder of revulsion as it threatened to roll though him. A pained groan spilt from his lips instead. He couldn't see the monster behind him, but could only imagine his lipless face curled in malicious satisfaction. A couple more aggressive thrusts and the Dark Lord's body tensed up as he found release. He slipped out of Harry's abused body and shifted his clothing back in place without hesitation. Even after orgasm, the man acted like a robot, cold and unfeeling. Harry didn't care though; the quicker the man left him, the better.

"See you next week, my little Horcrux." He murmured in a taunting voice before gliding out of the room. Harry laid tied up on the bed, waiting tiredly for some assistance. After ten minutes the door opened again and Lucius strode into the room, shutting the door crisply behind him. Harry glanced at him and slammed his head back into the pillow, embarrassed. It was rare that Lucius came to free him; typically, it was Draco who came to him.

"Where's Draco?" Harry's voice was muffled by the pillow. Lucius yanked his chains free from the post and cast a quick unlocking charm on the manacles around his wrists.

"Held up with Hyperion."

Harry's head shot back up and he sat up gingerly, accepting a robe from the elder man with gratitude. "Is Hyperion okay?" he pressed worriedly. Voldemort had never made a point to see the three-year-old often, and the thought of the man visiting him without Harry present was horrifying. Lucius gestured for Harry to follow him into the bathroom before answering.

"Hyperion is fine, just a little afraid. The Dark Lord brought Bellatrix with him today." He turned on the shower with a wave of his wand. Harry froze where he stood.

"That BITCH was near my son?" Harry snarled out furiously. Lucius glared at him warningly.

"Language. Don't be so uncouth…and get in." he jabbed a finger at the shower.

Harry scowled and shrugged of his robe, "You're not my father," he mumbled angrily.

Lucius sniffed haughtily, "Thank Merlin for that. You're a nuisance." Harry ignored the slight ache in his chest at the jibe as he climbed into the shower and yanked the curtain shut to conceal his nudity. "Hyperion is fine. My wife was able to keep her distracted for much of the time."

"And the rest of the time?"

"She sulked like a reprimanded school girl."

Harry's brow furrowed as he lathered soap onto his body in a furious attempt to rid himself of the lingering feel of Voldemort. "Is Bellatrix in trouble?"

Lucius sat in the vanity chair looking regal as usual. "She's jealous, Potter," he said, sounding bored.

Harry popped his head out of the shower curtain to peer at Lucius unbelievingly. "If she wants to take my place, she's more than bloody welcome!" Lucius cocked an eyebrow at him, withholding a reprimand this time.

"I'm sure she'd be more than willing. However, the Dark Lord shows no interest in her offer." Harry sighed.

"He's twisted. That's why," Harry muttered bitterly. Lucius offered no reply to that. The older Malfoy would never outwardly admit any disdain for the Dark Lord. For a while, Harry harbored nothing but distrust and dislike for the man, believing wholeheartedly that Lucius was a loyal-to-the-core Death Eater. About nine months into Harry's confinement with the Malfoys, Harry saw a shift happening within the Malfoy family.

He remembered the haunted look in the man's eyes that the Malfoy Mask couldn't seem to hide. He remembered the feeling of Lucius's hand on shoulder a whispered apology so soft, Harry still wasn't sure he had actually heard it. Harry didn't think Christmas would ever be the same for any of them. Over time, Lucius Malfoy appeared less to be a Death Eater in Harry's eyes, and more of a husband and father desperate to protect his family.

 _Of course he was still an arrogant pureblooded git_ , Harry supposed, _but_ , _there were definitely worse things a person could be._

* * *

 **August 24** **th** **, 1998**

"You're terrible at chess, Potter," Draco muttered in a fed up voice as they sat on opposite sides if the table in the modest library. The chessboard belonged to Draco, who had it in his trunk from their school days. He had never brought it out before today; Harry assumed boredom got the better of him.

Harry shrugged sheepishly.

"Ron was always the better chess player…I never beat him at a game once," he replied pensively. He missed Ron terribly. Hermione too. He had learned from Snape that they were still alive. The Ministry and Hogwarts had both fallen to Voldemort and his followers. They were in the process of passing laws that would punish those who supported the Light Side, without resorting to execution. From what Snape said, there was enough bloodshed at the ministry. If Voldemort continued killing everyone, there'd be no one left to control. Hence, the laws reforms. Harry could be relieved by that bit of news at least. When Harry finally managed to escape this place, he'd still have people to turn to.

Draco sneered at him, "Hard to believe the Weasel is good at anything."

Harry bristled at the jibe, " _Ron_ is good at plenty! He could beat you at chess easily, I imagine." The sneer deepened, and Malfoy's grey eyes glinted dangerously.

"Guess we'll never know now, will we, Potty? Not like we'll ever see him again."

Harry stood up angrily, sending some chess pieces tumbling to the floor at the forcefulness. "Why the fuck do you have to ruin _everything_ , Malfoy?!" He swept his arm down and cleared the small table of the chessboard completely. The blonde shot up from his seat and growled at Harry.

"Real fucking mature, Potter, that chessboard is worth more than what the Weasley's make in a _year_!" He spat. Harry gave him a hard shove and Malfoy stumbled back slightly before swiping a hand out and knocking Harry upside his head, hard enough to hurt but not hard enough to do any real damage. What a pansy. Harry snarled and leapt and Malfoy, preparing to pound the git into the ground. The force of Harry's body knocked them both down to the floor and Harry swung at him like a man in the wild. But Malfoy didn't hit back. Instead he was grabbing at Harry's arms and trying to push the boy off of him.

"Stop, Potter!" He yelled at Harry, managing to get a good grip on his left arm. "Stop!"

Harry grunted from exertion and tried to yank his arm back to no avail. He slapped Draco with his right hand angrily, "Fight me back, you coward!" He yelled at him. His voice cracked.

Oh. When had he started to cry?

"Harry!" Draco snapped at him. With his free hand he pressed down gently, but firmly onto Harry's stomach. Harry jerked slightly at the touch and looked down at the hand. Slowly, the boy's thumb stroked in a tantalizingly indulgent motion, quietly reminding Harry why he wouldn't fight back. Harry blinked owlishly at the soft touch. Since when had Draco Malfoy been this...understanding?

"Do you mind?" He said quietly. Harry nodded, his face red, and quickly climbed off of the Slytherin. He was embarrassed how badly he _didn't_ want to break away from Malfoy's touch. The other boy stood up and hesitantly offered a hand to him. Harry didn't take it right away as he looked at Malfoy's now disheveled appearance. The blonde's lip was bleeding and his right eye was slightly red, a hint of a bruise starting to form. Harry grasped the hand, amazed how warm it felt to touch, and allowed himself to be pulled to his feet. They didn't let go.

"I'm sorry," Harry whispered. Malfoy smirked again but this time his face held no malice.

"You should be. You have a nasty right hook. How bad is my face right now? I'm almost afraid to look."

Harry gave him a wry grin. "Er…handsome as ever?" He tried, jokingly. When had Draco gotten so close? He looked at their clasped hands and then back at the pale face now only a foot away from his.

Bugger it all.

Harry wasn't sure who initiated the kiss this time. Perhaps they had met in the middle, in mutual desire. All he knew was that he was in the best snog of his life, longer and even more intense than before. The heat of Draco's mouth on his own igniting his body once more into flames and—when had he ended up on the sofa? They were pressed against each other, hands roaming modestly, and _Merlin_ , did Draco know how to kiss.

 **...**

They had pulled away from each other, eventually coming up from air. Draco rested his forehead against Harry's scarred one, and panted slightly. He looked at Harry, whose eyes were closed, and took in the bitten lips (Draco felt pleased with himself at the sight) and his long eyelashes that usually framed his green eyes. He shook his head against Harry's and the boy pulled away to look at him. "You're going to get me killed, Potter," Draco murmured breathlessly. Harry's heart leapt into his throat. Draco was right. This couldn't happen. How could they have let this happen? Harry had wanted to bash his face in not even fifteen minutes ago. Like that made any sense at all.

"We can't do this," Harry admitted.

"No…" Draco agreed. "I hate you, Potty."

"I hate you too, Malfoy."

* * *

 **September 6th** **th** **, 1998**

Harry gasped as Draco lifted him slightly to sit on the edge of his bathroom sink. The blonde had always been taller than him by a few inches but he was lithely built like Harry was. And like Harry, he was stronger than he looked.

Harry's knees clamped down on Draco's hips to hold him in place as the boy kissed him, a pale hand clasping the back of Harry's head possessively. Harry's arms wrapped around the boy's shoulders and he carded his fingers through his hair, surprised at how soft the lightly-colored strands were to touch.

* * *

 **October 28** **th** **, 1998**

"You're getting fatter."

Harry scowled and looked down at his growing belly. "I'm pregnant, you twit!" He snapped.

Draco smirk grew, "Don't be such a _twat_ , Potter. I just meant the baby bump is growing. The rest of you is as scrawny as ever."

"Tosspot," Harry shot at him.

"Tosser."

"Twerp."

"Tight-arse."

"Tool."

"Thundercunt."

"…"

"Thought so."

Harry kissed him fiercely…just to shut him up, of course.

* * *

 **November 20** **th** **, 1998**

"I can't believe I am doing this."

"I wish I had a camera right now—ouch!"

"Do you want me to do this or not, you fuckwit?"

"Yes! I'm sorry. Gods don't stop…feels so good…" Harry moaned.

"You sound like you're getting laid…stop moaning like that." Draco muttered, shifting uncomfortably. Harry grinned widely and leaned back against Draco's headboard.

"Are you turned on by that?" Harry teased. Like _that_ was going to happen, though. Harry was feeling as big as a blimp, these days.

Draco shoved his legs, looking flustered and irate. "I'm done."

"No, no, please, Draco. I won't say anything more. Please? My feet hurt so badly. Look how swollen they're getting." He gave his best puppy-dog eyes and Draco rolled his eyes and lifted Harry's feet back into his lap. He reapplied his thumb to the underside of the brunette's foot. Merlin, when did he become so fucking whipped? And all for _Harry BloodyPotter_. He'd have to _obliviate_ the Chosen One later on, so this would never again be brought up.

"Have you thought of any names?" Draco questioned.

"Not yet...assuming that _He_ lets me name the baby…I think I'll wait until we meet face-to-face."

"How sentimental of you, Potter," Draco said, glancing at him carefully. Harry smiled wistfully.

"Have you ever given any thought to what you'd name your kids, Draco?" Draco snorted at the question. How was he going to marry and produce even one child if he was stuck here? It was a notion he had allowed himself to worry about a couple times. He knew his parents fretted about it too. It troubled him to think the Malfoy line could die with him and his parents, but…perhaps that was the Dark Lord's ultimate punishment for them all; to die heirless.

Draco indulged him. "It is a tradition amongst the Black family to name their children after a star or constellation (although it's a practice found in many other pureblooded families, as well)," He started and Harry tried not to think of Sirius. "I always intended to continue with that tradition. I also liked Hyperion."

Harry cocked his head to the side. "Hyperion is nice. Different."

"It's a name found in Greek mythology…It means 'High-One'."

"Of course it does," Harry grinned at him widely, "I'd expect nothing less from you, Malfoy."

"It's a good name," Draco said defensively. Harry moved his feet off of his lap and leaned in, pressing an innocent kiss to Draco's jaw.

"Yes, it is."


	7. Chapter 7

**July 21** **st** **, 2003**

Harry stared at the writing on the torn parchment before him…Hermione would understand. She had always been brilliant; surely she'd understand his message. He took the paper and flipped it over. The page had come from one of Hyperion's potions book. His son wouldn't be happy when he realized he was missing a chunk of the information about conception potions, but to be honest, the boy was far too young to know about those sort of things anyways. And Hermione might catch the subtle hint there, too, if he was lucky.

He folded it into the size of a knut—easier to pass it discreetly. The knot in his stomach clenched tighter. This was going to be an awful day, even if everything went smoothly. He buried the paper deep into his trouser pocket and grimaced as he surveyed himself in the mirror. The trousers he wore were meant to be form fitting but Harry felt too exposed and self-conscious in them. His black button down was tucked into the trousers and was buttoned just to his chest in order to reveal a few bite marks on his throat left behind from the Dark Lord's last visit.

 _At least he was wearing clothes. Voldemort could've brought him about in his shorts to display the bruises on his thighs, as well…or worse, he could be stark-naked._

He was donning the thin hooded cloak Draco had laid on the bed for him when the blonde came back into the room.

"The Dark Lord will be here in twenty minutes. Are you ready for this?" Draco asked, looking at Harry apprehensively. He reached over to fix Harry's braid. Harry smiled at him uneasily.

"I don't think there's any way to be ready for this. But I'm dressed, at least. Let's go; I want to say goodbye to Hyperion before HE gets here…"

 **…**

"How's your wittle ickle baby, Potter? He wasn't much fun last week. Didn't want to _pway_ with me." Harry's fist clenched tightly at his side, determined to not retaliate against Bellatrix's taunting.

"Play nice, Bella," the Dark Lord whispered, his voice darkly amused. They entered through the wards of Hogwarts: Voldemort in front with Rudolphus and Bellatrix Lestrange on his flanks, Lucius and Draco behind them on either side of Harry.

Two figures met them as they passed through the gates. Harry understood them to be the Carrow's, Amycus and Alecto.

Harry's heart was in his throat as they were led into Hogwarts; the place that he had once called his home. Not much had changed since he'd left school five years ago, but Harry could literally feel the coldness, the desolation of a previously peaceful place. Hogwarts no longer held sanctuary for him.

Nevertheless, it was the first time he had been out of the manor in years, and the slightest taste of freedom was potent. He couldn't falter now, though; he had a mission to complete. The doors to the Great Hall sprung open and Harry kept his hood up and head bowed as they walked in. His hands shook and he clasped them tightly behind himself as they strode up towards the head table. His peripheral vision allowed him to see swarms of knelt figures clad in Slytherin-themed robes: some in black, others in silver, and the rest in green. He lowered his face more so they couldn't see him.

The anxiety was growing alarmingly within his body. He should've never asked Snape to suggest this. This was too much— _he wasn't ready!_

Voldemort reached the pulpit where Dumbledore had stood all those years ago when he would make his start-of-term and end-of-term speeches. Harry knelt with the rest of their company.

"How _good_ it is, to see all of these familiar faces for another Summer," Voldemort said in a cold voice that was laced with airs of superiority. He was loving this. "It pleases me to hear from our valued staff and _esteemed_ Headmaster Snape, that the _acclimatizing_ here at Hogwarts has been effective thus far…so pleased, in fact, that I have a surprise for you all; a little _treat_ if you will, and a stunning testament to my rule."

Harrys heart was plummeting and he could almost taste the restlessness and confusion that was wafting through the Hall on his tongue. _He wasn't ready._

 _Focus, Harry, focus. Do it for Hyperion._

"You may all rise." Harry rose to his feet unsteadily and he felt Draco reach out briefly to place a stabilizing hand on his elbow. _"Come forward_ …"

Harry hadn't registered that the command had been directed towards him immediately. It wasn't until Lucius pressed him forward firmly that he made his way to the two steps of the dais, where the head table sat and stepped up obediently. He kept his head lowered submissively. His palms were sweating where they were clutched behind his back. Gracefully, Voldemort slid over to him and pressed a frigid hand under Harry's chin, lifting it slightly to look at him.

Then, he was turned violently towards the head table, to face the Hogwarts staff. The rest of the crowd was behind him, silent and confused over the proceedings, his back unrecognizable to them. He saw Snape first, who sat in the largest chair, then his eyes made their way down the table miserably, begging them silently not to hate him. McGonagall's eyes widened and her hand rose to her mouth looking like she had seen a ghost as she gasped. She probably thought she had… Flitwick jumped in his seat and let out a squeak—Sprout had a similar reaction to McGonagall's. Slughorn let out an appalled "Oh!" and on it went, Harry's old teachers and the few Death Eater's that held positions on the staff meeting his eyes, the former with shock, the latter with looks of cruel glee.

It lasted maybe a minute before the Dark Lord yanked his hood down. His overheated body made the air feel freezing on his face and he was again yanked around to face the majority, now. The reactions were louder—cries of astonishment, some screams of his name—sobs of disbelief—

Voldemort had him by his plaited hair and was forcing him onto his knees once more. Harry couldn't meet their eyes, his face warm with shame and tears threatening to break free as he willingly submitted to the Dark Lord.

* * *

 **December 24** **th** **, 1998**

"Are you all right, Mr. Potter?" Narcissa asked the boy as he doubled over in his seat and let out a pained groan. The black head of hair shook wildly in negation, unable to speak momentarily.

"He's been complaining that his stomach hurt all day," Draco added, setting down his fork and knife with a furrowed brow. "He hasn't been like this though."

Harry rocked back and forth trying to relieve the shooting pain in his body, his arms wrapped tightly around his rounded belly. "It keeps getting worse and worse, I think I need Snape—something's got to be wrong!" Harry gasped out. Narcissa stood up quickly at his words and Lucius followed her actions.

"Lucius, would you floo Severus, please? Inform him that Mr. Potter is in labor." Lucius did a double take before striding out of the room without further prodding.

"Labor?" Draco repeated, kneeling down by Harry's chair to keep him upright. Narcissa came over to them and pressed a gentle hand to the brunette's back, rubbing it firmly.

"Harry, you need to take deep breaths. Draco, when your father comes back, help get him upstairs. I'm going to go get the medical room ready." With that, the Malfoy matriarch glided out of the room with a calm determination.

"Breathe? How…the fuck can I breathe through this?" Harry moaned out, "it's literally taking my breath away." Draco rubbed his back comfortingly.

"If you can open your gab to complain, you can certainly use it to breathe," Draco snorted unhelpfully; "You can do this, Harry," he added more kindly.

Lucius came back in the dining room, then, looking apprehensive. "Severus will be here shortly. Where's your mother?" he asked Draco then eyed Harry cautiously as he let out another groan.

Draco stood up and grasped Harry's arm tightly. "She's getting the room ready; can you help me get him upstairs, Father?"

Together the two blonde men guided a panting Harry up the stairs. "Who the fuck puts the medical room on the second floor. Stupid arses, stupid bloody fucking—"

"Is the vulgarity really necessary, Potter?" Lucius snapped, growing annoyed. Seriously, was the boy raised by animals? He was aware the Slytherins were known for hurling obscenities. They use to make games of it in his day. But in the presence of adults they knew to show more respect than this. Even if Draco sometimes needed a _gentle_ reminder.

"Are you really… going to start on me about my swearing because…this isn't the time. _Fuck_!" Harry panted. Lucius glowered.

Draco tried not to smirk.

 **…**

"I don't want you cutting me open!" Harry told Snape, holding himself protectively. Snape heaved a sigh and put his hands on his hips exasperatedly.

"If I don't perform a cesarean, you'll both die, Potter. The infant has nowhere to come out, in case you've forgotten your personal anatomy," Snape griped. "With a female, this is easier. A female can deliver vaginally or a cesarean can be performed. Some cases are scheduled and the baby can be removed even before labor begins. With a male it's a bit trickier. Because the womb is only temporary, the fetus is more vulnerable inside it. We cannot remove the infant until labor begins—a sure sign that it is ready to be born. It's not relevant to your situation, Potter, but if this was a premature labor, then survival rate is much lower. Much can go wrong in male pregnancy, perhaps because it goes against the laws of nature; nevertheless, we must proceed with great care."

He forced Harry by the shoulders to lay back and he pushed the partition curtain over his chest. When the boy started tearing up, Snape sighed again. "Potter, it'll be quick, easy, and for the most part, painless. Just a lot of pressure. Trust me." Harry shuddered out a long breath and nodded weakly. Snape had proven to himself to Harry. He now understood why Dumbledore had put his faith into him. Severus Snape was a snarky bastard, biased and unpleasant at times—much of the time, but he could be trusted. Especially with his baby.

Snape was right: there was a lot of pressure, and although not much time had passed, it felt like an eternity of uncertainty to Harry.

…And then Snape was untying the knot in Harry's gown with one hand and lowering it just enough to place this wrinkled mass of reddened flesh and dark hair onto his chest.

Harry clutched the little body with shaking hands, unbelieving, and Snape was standing by him with a hand supporting the baby.

"Congratulations, Mr. Potter, it appears that you have a son. I need to heal you; do you have a good hold on him?" Harry nodded, holding the baby tighter to his bared chest.

"It's a boy, he's a boy," Harry murmured looking at his son—his son. "Don't cry, I've got you…" Harry whispered, a thumb stroking a little cheek as the baby wailed in a dry cry. "I've got you." He repeated gently, determined.

His son.

 **…**

It was three in the morning and as tired as Harry was, he couldn't sleep. So he sat perched vigilantly, looking at the little baby swaddled snuggly in the basinet by his bed as he slept.

It was three in the morning when Harry made his choice. He grabbed the needled he had swiped from the medical room when Snape wasn't looking. Dropping to his knees in front of the bedroom door and began to pick at the lock. It was a skill he had learn from years spent in his cupboard, when he'd use a pin stolen from Aunt Petunia's sewing kit to escape his confinement quietly in order to sneak a slice of cheese or bread, or a sip of milk from the kitchen in the dead of night. He had never been caught before.

He felt the lock give way eventually and his heart leapt. He stuck the needle into the lapel of his robe for safe keeping. He lifted his son up and cradled him in his arms securely as he slipped silently out of the room and tip-toed down the stairs.

 _The Malfoys were all asleep in their beds_ , Harry noted, feeling relieved. The manor was quiet in the dead of the night—or morning? He reached the ground floor and paused, heart rapidly beating a tattoo in his chest. There was the floo—it would be quicker and easier through it, but the connected networks were limited to only a couple places—the only one he was aware of was the Headmaster's office at Hogwarts. He didn't think Snape would be very welcoming to harboring a fugitive.

So the only way was through the front door and out into the night. He tugged the blankets tighter around the sleeping baby and then draped his robes over the both of them to protect from the winter cold. He knew it had yet to start snowing much, but the air was nippy and his son was too small to be unprotected from the cold. He was thankful for the warming charms on the receiving blanket Snape casted earlier.

He pulled out the needle from where it was pinned and began working on the second lock. _It was a strange thing, being locked inside a house_ , Harry decided as he picked, _usually it was the other way around._ But this wasn't a home. It was a cage really, a prison. This lock was a little bit more time consuming but eventually it too, gave way. Harry let out the breath he didn't know he was holding. If it had always been this easy, he should've done this months ago! He grasped the door handle in his sweaty had and slowly eased the door open to face the outside world.

The alarm that sounded was deafening and Harry stumbled from the door frantically. He should've known there were warded alarms—this was all going too easily. Nothing was every this easy for him! The baby let out startled shrieks as Harry took off down the steps instinctually. He had to run and hide. He could hide!

He couldn't hide. He was wandless and helpless and his cesarean scar was aching and it was cold outside. Too cold to be without shelter for hours…or days. This was all going very, very wrong.

"Potter! Stop!" Arms wrapped around his shoulders and held him back into the foyer furiously. Harry clutched the screaming infant to his body defensively. "What in the name of _Hades_ do you think you're doing, you idiot boy!" Lucius hissed in his ear. Harry barely heard him with the alarm sounding out so loudly. "Do you have a death wish?!"

The alarm stopped.

"Well, well, well…what is this?" Came a cold, high voice.

"Quiet the child, let me do the talking," Lucius hissed in his ear before turning to the Dark Lord. "My Lord—"

"It looks, Lucius, as if the boy was trying to escape his nice home here…" Voldemort stated ominously, cutting over the blonde. "Is that right, Harry?" Harry clenched his eyes tightly to keep his tears from falling. He clutched the warm bundle, only little whimpers coming from the infant now.

"Let him go, Lucius…" The Dark Lord approached them closer now, stopping just in front of Harry. "I was informed the child was born. Show me my son, Harry…" he whispered softly. He didn't wait for Harry to move his cloak away. He reached a pale hand up and pushed it aside to reveal the infant in Harry's trembling arms. "Hmm, have you decided on a name for him?"

Harry blinked in confusion and shook his head slightly. Voldemort's red eyes gazed at him with a mysterious gleam to them. Then the mouth quirked slightly into a peculiar smile.

"Name him, Harry."

Harry swallowed hard, and his mouth open and closed like he didn't know quite how to form words. He felt winded.

"Name him!" the weird smile was gone and Voldemort glared at him impatiently. Harry shook.

"I—I don't know—" Voldemort drew his wand and aimed it at the baby's tiny forehead threateningly. Harry let out a sob and took a small step back.

"Now!" Voldemort barked at him.

"I—James, then, James!" Harry cried out.

"After his Grandfather? How _nice_." Harry's shoulders were tense. "It's late, Harry, you should be getting some sleep." That was it? "But before I go…" of course not. Voldemort smiled at him cruelly then and raised his wand.

 _"Avada Kedavra."_

 _"NO!"_

Harry dropped to the ground like someone cut the invisible strings holding him.

"Happy Christmas, Harry."

 **…**

"Potter, you have to let go."

"…"

"Potter, listen to me: there is nothing you can do for him, you have to let go."

"…"

Snape looked at Lucius, Narcissa, and Draco's stricken faces, searching for anyone to step forward and assist him.

"He's gone into shock. Draco? Perhaps you can get through to him."

Draco stepped forward with shaking legs and inched his way cautiously to where Harry collapsed onto the floor.

"Potter—Harry?" Draco whispered, bending on one knee to get more on Harry's level. He didn't know how to get through to Harry. What the hell could Draco say to make him feel better? The Dark Lord just _killed_ his baby. Draco wanted to throw up. "It's—it's Draco…Harry, can you let go of the baby for me?" Harry's eyes rose quickly to Draco's face. He looked wild.

"He's mine!" Harry croaked out.

Draco nodded soothingly, "Yes, he is yours Harry…but he's—gone Harry. Can you let go of him for a minute so Severus can take a look at you? Your incision reopened and it's bleeding everywhere."

Harry nodded shortly and slowly eased his grip on the unmoving bundle in his arms. Draco gently took it from the brunette and stood back up.

The action drew him out of his stupor and all at once a damn broke in Harry. He let out a loud sob and scrambled to his feet reaching for the still infant. "No, no! Give him back, he isn't gone!" He screamed. Severus and Lucius swept in to hold him back as he went to tackle Draco to the ground. The youngest blonde scrambled towards his mother and shoved the baby into her arms. He watched as his father and Severus pulled him out of the room, Harry screaming hysterically the whole while. Draco ran into the down stairs powder room and promptly threw up.

 **…**

"You're going to do that now?" Lucius questioned, looking grim. He looked somberly at the boy passed out on the examine table and then at the needle in Severus's hand.

The man nodded, his dark hair hung limp around his pale face. "The Dark Lord's orders. He'll be back on New Year's day to impregnate the boy. Stupid, stupid, boy…" He injected the potion into Potter's abdomen, his face grave as said boy let out a small whimper in his sleep.

"I can't believe he tried to escape." Lucius stated.

"I can," Severus muttered. "Potter has always acted irrational and has a hero complex on top of that. The Dark Lord knows this. That is why he came tumbling into the Department of Ministries two years ago. That is why he tried to escape tonight. He wanted to save his child."

"Any parent would."

Severus raised an eyebrow at the older man. "Feeling compassion for your young charge, Lucius?"

"Considering what has transpired tonight, can you blame me, old friend?"

"The Dark Lord tried to kill Potter as an infant. Did that not matter, then?

"Of course it mattered. I don't condone children being murdered…but I was young. And impressionable."

"Weren't we all…" Severus acknowledged. "It seems you sympathize with him, Lucius."

Lucius paused momentarily, absorbing the Potion Master's words. "It would seem that you sympathize with the boy, too, Severus," he answered unwaveringly.

* * *

 **July 21** **st** **, 2003 (continued)**

"Harry! Oh, _Merlin_ , he's alive!"

"Harry Potter!"

"He's been alive this whole time?"

" _Harry!"_

"Yes…Harry Potter lives…" The Dark Lord spoke softly but it was enough to silence the room completely. "Serving me for the past four years, _submitting_ to my command entirely—isn't that right, Harry?" Harry stared at the floor and forced a quick nod as Voldemort's hands tightened in his hair warningly. At the gesture, he continued, "Let it NEVER be said that the Dark Lord is not merciful…and let it never be _uttered_ that the Dark Lord can be defeated by a filthy half-blooded _whore_." He propelled Harry forward then, so he had to catch himself onto his hands, the grip on his hair relinquished as he did.

"Our Staff Meeting will now commence in the staff room. Bellatrix, Rudolphus: stay and babysit the whore." Harry's eyes clenched tightly—he hadn't anticipated that bitch being in the room. He should've known the two Malfoy men weren't held in high enough esteem in Voldemort's eyes to look after him alone.

There was a scraping of chairs as the teachers stood warily, following the Dark Lord and Snape into the room in the back of the Hall. The door closed and Harry was left to face the crowd. The silence was deafening until Bellatrix started cackling shrilly. She practically skipped over to Harry and yanked him up by his arm savagely. "Ickle baby, Potter, don't you want to say 'hi'?" Harry refused to take the bait and then, an insane idea struck him. Had he not been so consumed with passing on his note, had he been thinking logically, he would've never done it—

He ripped his arm from her grasp, causing her crazy eyes to narrow dangerously. "Now don't be so naughty, little Potter, you don't want the Master to punish you, do you? …Or maybe you _like_ it, slag?" She hissed cruelly.

She was making this too easy, though. He had spent too long having to ignore Bellatrix's snide comments for the sake of not angering Voldemort. He had spent too long playing the obedient slave, the butt of the joke. Harry saw red. His eyes rose to meet hers challengingly and her sneer turned slightly into an expression of puzzlement.

He spat in her face.

The moments following happened in the blink of an eye.

Bellatrix screamed and him slapped once, so hard his body twisted and fell to the ground; his hand slipped into his pocket unnoticeably as he scrambled to his feet once more. Bellatrix had her wand in her hand this time, shooting a hex his way before Lucius wrenched her arm down yelling, "You are not to harm him, he is the Dark Lord's to deal with, Bella!" The hex had done its' job and sent Harry flying into the mass of green, black, and silver robes. Hands grabbed him to steady him and he looked into the stricken face of Neville Longbottom. He wasn't Hermione or Ron but he could be trusted, Harry knew it.

"Harry, what's going—" Neville's gasping inquiry was cut off as the staff room doors swung open in a loud bang and Harry shoved the note into the taller boy's robes, his eyes in a silent, meaningful plead, before he slumped back to kneel on the floor, his head pointed down to the stone.

" _What_ …is the meaning of all this…commotion?" came the harsh, icy whisper that silenced the room instantly.

"My Lord," Bellatrix gasped out, her chest heaving madly. She pointed an accusing finger Harry's direction, "that filthy half-blood disobeys you! Please Master, let me show him what happens when—"

"Silence, Bella…" she lowered her head quickly as he walked by her; her body was radiating fury, the desire to curse Harry tangible in the Hall.

Harry's heart hammered painfully as Voldemort glided towards him, each step emitting a daunting click in the otherwise noiseless room.

"Is this true, Harry?" he questioned softly. He stroked Harry's head gently, mockingly. "Answer me."

Harry kept his eyes lowered. He didn't dare refute Bellatrix's words. "Forgive me, Master." Harry's murmur caught in his throat slightly. This was all a mistake. Voldemort seized his hair, his long nails biting into his scalp, and Harry was yanked upwards. Harry's hand shot up automatically to the Dark Lord's wrist, clutching it in order to relieve some of the pressure caused.

"I thought I broke that little obedient streak three years ago, Harry," his red eyes gleamed malevolently as he shook him punishingly by the hair. Harry repressed a pained whimper. "Pity. Severus…looks like I'll be needing another potion from you." Harry's blood ran cold and he let out a sob, grasping Voldemort's arm holding him tighter.

"No, _please_! _Please_! I'll do anything, please no, _no_ …" he was begging, crying miserably and he no longer cared of the audience. He didn't need his pride or his dignity, not when his son's life was on the line! The tears poured down his face in rivulets like someone dumped a bucket of water over his head. _"I'll do whatever you asssk of me, punisssh me, make me bleed, pleassse don't hurt him, pleassse, I'm begging you, My Lord, punisssh me, instead!"_ He added desperately in Parseltongue. His heart was breaking in a way all too familiar; his anguish unbearable. He couldn't do it. He couldn't lose his little boy. He'd sooner die before he let it happen.

Voldemort's cruel eyes surveyed him, relishing in his tears and begging. The grip eased slightly after a moment, finally coming to a decision. "BELLATRIX, COME." The witch all but ran over, bowing in deeply. "You may have your retribution. I suppose twenty lashes will suffice." Bellatrix's eyes widened like a kid on Christmas, and she nodded fervently, thanking her beloved Master with a kiss to the hem of his robe.

…

Harry was knelt before the Dark Lord, who now sat in an ornate throne in front of the room. His shirt and cloak were removed and his bare skin felt cool in the air as Bellatrix moved slowly behind him, brandishing the whip menacingly. Voldemort reached down to stroke his hair as another lash cut into Harry's back, this time he couldn't help the cry he let out, muffled only slightly by the man's white robes. His back was bleeding heavily by the time she finished, and Voldemort gestured for Draco to collect him from the floor.

"I want him cleaned up and treated immediately… I'll be back tonight to continue your punishment, Harry. Be gracious I'm allowing the boy to live another day," he added to Harry complacently "…the Dark Lord will never be so merciful again."

Harry nodded tiredly, feeling drained from his crying. The pain in his back was searing but Harry's relief was stronger. He pressed a kiss to the robes, and murmured a low "Thank you, for your mercy, my Lord." He was heaved up roughly to his feet after a moment and dragged out of the Hall by a furious Draco and Lucius. As he was escorted out his eyes met Neville's hazel ones fleetingly. Harry swallowed hard; it had all backfired on him but he got his message through. The Quaffle was on their side of the field, now.

 **…**

"Draco…Draco, please." The blonde brushed him off once more, as he chained Harry to the bed in nothing but the usual thin robe. The sky was dark now—Voldemort was due to arrive soon. He hadn't been allowed to see Hyperion upon his arrival back to their hidden manor, and Harry didn't think he could face his son's perfect little cherub face anyways. Not after Harry had so fucking foolishly put him at risk. _Some father he was._

"Draco, please, you have to understand," Harry muttered, his voice weak and scratchy in his throat. Draco wheeled around at him, and for the first time in years, his eyes held nothing but loathing for Harry. It was like they were in school all over again. There was no look of reluctant fondness that he usually received in private…there wasn't even a sneer...just, just _hatred_.

Merlin, it hurt. He deserved it, he knew. But it hurt all the same.

"Understand?" Draco said, voice barely containing his fury, "How the fuck do I have to understand this? You broke your promise, Potter." The lump in Harry's throat was as big as a snitch. He watched as Draco walked to the door to leave, unable to run after him and plead for him to understand he was trying to save them all.

When Draco turned back to him face him again, his grey eyes had turned glassy. "Who the fuck do you think you are? How could you put Hyperion at risk? Doesn't he mean anything?!"

"Of course he does!" Harry cried, tears breaking free for what felt like the hundredth time that evening. God, how many tears could a body produce? "He means everything to me! I love him, he's everything…he's my son, I love him so much…" He wept, brokenly. His nose was running down with his tears and wiped his face on the pillow below him dolefully.

"He means everything to me too, Harry!" Draco snapped and his hands shook so badly that he had to clench them at his sides to ground himself. "You promised me you'd never do anything to put him at risk, Harry—you gave me your word. And apparently _that_ means nothing to you, but it does to me. How could you willingly put _our_ son at risk?"

Draco didn't wait for an answer before he stormed out, slamming the door shut behind him.

* * *

 **December 29** **th** **, 1998**

His son's eyes had been dark. Harry had thought most babies were born with blue eyes. Not his son, though. They were a dark brow with flecks of red, when Harry had got to see them briefly. They didn't scare him. The baby didn't look menacing…the baby looked like, well, a baby. An innocent baby. And if Harry had had the chance to love him, maybe he could've been...good. Regardless of his parentage.

Harry swallowed thickly, as he read the potions book. He had spent the past four days mostly in seclusion. Aside from grooming and meal times he sought no one else's company. Not even Draco's.

He stared blankly at the Transfiguration book in his lap, reading words but not really taking any of it in. Draco's kisses seemed like ages ago. When his son was still safe inside his belly and not dead and buried God-knows-where. He brushed a stray tear away and turned the page bitterly. He paused as he stared at the next page.

 _'Ritualistic Spells to Alter Appearances'_

 _Interesting._

 ** _…_**

"Hey." Draco's eyebrows shot up. He'd been having to prod Harry into speaking since Christmas Day. The brunette still looked dreadful; his eyes were red-rimmed and puffy, his nose and cheeks blotchy. Draco felt his heart clench sadly for the other boy. Harry acknowledging someone was a good sign, though.

"'Hey' yourself," Draco said, a slight teasing smile on his handsome face. Harry gazed at him with a strange look in his eyes. He looked nervous and awkward. Draco unlocked the bathroom door and gestured Harry to follow.

Draco could feel green eyes staring at him intently from where Harry sat in the tub. The scar from his cesarean nearly fully healed, leaving behind a clean line: the only evidence Harry had had a child. "Why are you staring at me like that, Potty?" He quipped.

Harry smiled a smile that looked more like a wince. "I wanted to ask you something. A favor. I really huge favor." Draco rose an eyebrow.

"If you're asking for a blow job—" Draco started with a slight chuckle. Harry was communicating. He had to fuel it. He had to see his brilliant smile. When had he become so smitten? He balked at his own thoughts—he wasn't smitten. It was lust. Boredom. Not 'smitten'!

Damn it.

"Kind of."

What? "Wait—what?"

"Not really," Harry squirmed uneasily in the tub, the water sloshed around him noisily. "But kind of along those lines…"

Draco leaned forward slowly, resting his elbows on his knees as he stared at Harry. "Harry, what the hell are you talking about?" Draco pressed. The dark haired boy sighed and pointed at his discarded trousers.

"Look in the pocket."

Draco frowned and retrieved the pants. He slid his hand into them and withdrew a folded page of a book that had been carefully ripped out.

" _'Ritualistic Spells to Alter Appearances',"_ Draco read aloud. He frowned. "You want to change what you look like?"

"No."

Draco heaved an exasperated sigh. "Help me out here, Harry."

"Voldemort will be here in three days…Snape gave me that fucking potion again, he's going to make me have his baby again." Harry said thickly. He hugged his arms around his knees tightly.

Draco looked at him sadly.

"Unless…" Harry trailed off hesitantly.

"Unless…" Draco echoed confusedly.

"Unless you want to. You know. With me."

Draco jumped up as he stared at Harry. "Are you bloody crazy?" he yelped. Harry put a hand up like he was trying to calm a wild animal.

"Draco, hear me out; I'm asking for a favor—"

"You're asking me to get you pregnant, Harry!" he hissed at him. "That's fucking suicide! You've fucking lost your mind…"

"You want an heir, don't you?" Harry snapped at him. He knew his idea was bloody bonkers but he didn't appreciate the blonde Malfoy Heir having a conniption over it.

"Yes, of course I do," Draco began, "But Harry, this is insanity. If we were found out—"

"We wouldn't be! We have three days before HE gets here, we could—you know—and then he will, too. And he'll think it is his, and then when it's born we can have Snape perform the spell and change his appearance to look more like HIM and not like you at all. But biologically, it'd be your kid, your heir. The Malfoy line could continue…" Harry tried, hands gripping the edge of the tub tightly.

Draco stared at him flabbergasted. "You've definitely lost it…" he breathed.

"I can't do it again, Draco. I can't have another baby that looks like _HIM_ , that looks like the one I've," his voice broke slightly, "like the one I've lost."

Draco dropped back into his chair and hid his face in his hands.

 _Merlin help him_.

* * *

 **December 30** **th** **, 1998**

"Okay."

"Okay?"

"I'll do it. I'll…get you pregnant." Draco never thought make such a strange declaration out loud. Harry's emerald eyes widened as he looked at the boy who came to wake him that morning.

"I…Draco, thank you."

"On one condition," Draco continued, ignoring Harry's thanks. His back was stiff and he looked like he hadn't gotten much sleep that night.

"Anything." Harry said simply.

"You have to promise me you'll never put our kid at risk, Harry." Harry flinched like he had been slapped. Draco pressed on firmly, "Obey the Dark Lord, Harry, I mean it. If he wants you to call him 'Master' or eat off the bloody floor, or suck his fucking _cock_ , you must do it. _Submit_ to him. No one will think less of you for doing what it takes to keep the child safe."

Harry's eyes fluttered closed and he inhaled deeply, trying to quell the pain in his heart. "I promise. I'll do whatever it takes to protect our child."

 _Our child._

"Then I'll do it." Draco stared at him with intense grey eyes. Harry's face flushed at his scrutiny, suddenly very aware he was disheveled and probably was sporting some morning breath.

"Er—when?" Draco snorted.

"Well certainly not this instant," the blonde remarked with a smirk. "I'll come in tonight, after my parents are asleep," he continued in a lower voice. "Maybe closer to two or three, just to be safe."

Harry climbed out of bed to follow him into the bathroom. "I suppose you better make me pretty for you then, Malfoy." Harry jested. He felt a little brighter. Just a little.

 _I like you just the way you are._

"We'll be here all day, then," he jabbed back at Harry.

* * *

 **July 22** **nd** **, 2002**

"Can I speak with you guys for a moment?" Neville whispered to the duo. Hermione and Ron looked terrible. Most of the people in Hogwarts looked terrible, to be honest. No one looked like they slept well at all. Hermione looked like she cried much of her night away. She nodded, smiling weakly at Neville. He pressed a folded piece of parchment into her hand.

"What's that?" Ron questioned, leaning in to get a closer look. Hermione frowned and opened the paper. "A piece of our sixth year potions textbook? On fertility and pregnancy potions. You trying to tell us something, mate?"

"Turn it over," Neville said, and Hermione complied, brown eyes reading hungrily.

She inhaled excitedly, "Ron, look at the writing! Where'd you get this, Neville?"

Neville shoved his hands into his robe pockets, glancing over his shoulder quickly, then back to the couple. "Last night, when Bellatrix Lestrange hexed Harry and he fell into me; he slipped it to me. Does it make sense to either of you?"

Hermione read the message again. "I—I don't know. I'm not quite sure. I need to sit. I need to think."

 _A crown sits upon her head,_

 _As she lifts her cup to take a sip._

 _In a moment I'll be dead,_

 _And she must fall, or fail to RIP._

 _-Post Tenebras Lux_

* * *

A/N:

This chapter was hard to write. There's a lot going on that I wanted to tell in one chapter. And it was kind of depressing to write. Poor little baby James...

Harry is an idiot in this chapter, too. He jumps into things without thinking clearly and he gets tortured in many, many ways for his actions. But canonically, Harry was always a bit irrational, so while I was mentally screaming at Harry for being so stupid, it wasn't that far of a stretch. It's clear to see the torment Harry's been through now, that has changed him from the Harry his friends once knew.

Hope y'all enjoyed!


	8. Chapter 8

**A/N: I'm posting two chapters in one day-if you have not read chapter seven go back and read it, please. Or else this one won't make sense. This is a smutty chapter.**

 **December 31** **st** **, 1998**

Harry laid in bed, staring nervously at the shadows on the ceiling. It was quarter past two in the morning. Draco would be there soon—if he still intended to show up. He knew the older boy was reluctant and he understood the _hell_ that would break loose if they were caught…but the idea of having another child by the Dark Lord was a fate worse than Harry could bear.

How ironic, he thought, that he would name the child James only for his son to meet the same fate as Harry's father. He played it in his head a thousand times—could he have evaded the curse in time? Could he have taken the curse for him, as Lily had once for Harry?

But he had never seen it coming; the spell had hit its target before Harry could even comprehend what was happening. Now his son was dead, and Harry would never get a chance to hold him in his arms again. He didn't even know what Severus did with the tiny body. The tiny, frail looking baby that would never have an opportunity to become anyone at all.

Damn it, now was not the time to focus on this. He was literally waiting to have sex with his former rival-turned baby sitter-turned kind of sort of maybe a boyfriend. Lover? (Horny) fellow prisoner?

He couldn't deny his attraction to the blonde. Even in school he was drawn to the Malfoy heir, his emotions always had been heightened when they were near each other. Draco always filled him with intensity, though the once anger had been replaced with a crazy passion. It was a bizarre situation. Harry didn't know how to convey these emotions. Draco was even more closed off than Harry was.

Then time had slowly ticked away and he heard his bedroom door opening nearly inaudibly and the boy that consumed his thoughts was standing next to his bed.

"I started to think you changed your mind," Harry murmured as he slowly sat up and rested his arms onto his bent knees. Draco smiled wryly at him and leaned against the post of his bed too casually for someone about to get someone else pregnant.

"I almost didn't, to be honest."

"What made you come then?" Harry whispered, eyes raising. Draco slowly crossed his arms over his chest and cocked his head to the side, his medium-length hair cascading over with the tilt of his head. Merlin, Harry loved it when Draco didn't slick his hair back. His locks were so lush, so soft under Harry's fingertips.

"Well...I may never have another chance to have an heir with anyone else. I know someday we will cease to be of use to the Dark Lord. Some day he will tire of us and I'll be either killed or demoted even more to the point no witch or wizard would want to give me a child," Draco stated plainly. "I don't want my familial line to end with me."

Harry nodded wistfully. _That was it?_ "I understand…it doesn't bother you that this child won't ever be considered a pureblood in our world?" Draco eased himself onto the bed with a strained expression on his face.

"It did, for a while. Maybe it still does a little. You have to understand, Harry," Draco added as he took in Harry's disappointment, "I was raised with the concept of blood purity ingrained into me. I was taught the importance of continuing the Malfoy line and preserving our place amongst the Sacred Twenty- Eight. It's just the way things are for Purebloods. Our bloodlines are priority."

"Then maybe you shouldn't muddle your perfect lineage with my dirty blood!" Harry snapped, shifting on the bed angrily, creating more distance between him and Draco.

Draco huffed in annoyance.

"That's the thing, Harry! The more and more I weighed the pros and cons of _all_ of this, one thing kept popping into my bloody head! Trust me when I say there were a hundred more cons on the list, like being _murdered_ , and yet, every time I'd close my eyes I'd see your face. Your _stupid,_ pretty face and your annoying smile and awkward-as-hell mannerisms, and them _damn_ green eyes staring at me—and for fuck's sake I _want_ you. I want every part of you for myself, and I want the Malfoy heir to be _our_ heir, and it is _fucking suicide_! But here I am, because in all this solitude, I must've lost my fucki—oomph!" Draco nearly fell off his place perched on the side of the bed as Harry tackled him for a heated, wet kiss. It was a little sloppy, and their noses bumped at the force of it, but to Draco it was perfect. Because it was dangerous and spontaneous and wild…just like Harry.

Draco broke the kiss with a slight groan and he could feel Harry's hot breath puffing on his mouth, just inches away. "Are we going to do this or not?" Harry breathed out.

Draco stood up and grabbed Harry's hips, causing him to topple onto his back and he dragged the brunette to the edge of the bed, marveling in the way Harry looked splayed out before him. He pressed his hands on either side of Harry's head and leaned down to kiss him more gently this time.

"I don't know what I'm doing," Harry whispered when they parted with his face flushed from a mixture of arousal and embarrassment. Draco frowned and Harry hurried to clarify. "I mean…I was—there was no one else before HE got me pregnant."

Draco searched Harry's green eyes dejectedly. "You were a virgin when he…?" Harry bit his lip and nodded, looking ashamed.

"I was kind of swept into a war, I didn't exactly have time to _do the deed_ ," Harry defended.

Draco smiled and shook his head, "Sex, Harry, it's called 'sex' and if we are going to have it, then you best be able to use the big boy words."

He chuckled at Harry's glare and shifted his weight slightly where he was propped up over the other teen.

"Don't be an arse…plus, it's hard to talk about." His eyes shifted to the side to avoid contact with Draco before he continued. "It was awful last time; I couldn't understand how people could even enjoy having… _sex_ like that."

Just like that, it was no longer a humorous situation to either of them. Draco sighed and then leaned in once more to press a closed mouth kiss to Harry's reddened lips. "Well then, I better show you how to enjoy it." Draco stood up, and Harry found himself missing the weight of the other on top of him. He propped himself up onto his arms and watched as Draco shot his wand out lazily to the door to cast a silencing charm on it. He placed his wand on top of the nightstand and then withdrew a glass vial from his pocket, and set it beside it.

"Aren't there spells that can...produce that stuff?"

" _Lubricant_? Yes…but it's not the same. Nor is it as fun."

"You've done this before." It wasn't a question. Draco nodded fleetingly as he began unbuttoning his soft pajama shirt. "With who?"

"You really want to discuss this now? Merlin—okay, fine. The first was Pansy, which was awkward because she is really like the sister I never had, nor wanted. That was after the yule ball in our fourth year." He ignored Harry's surprised look and continued as he popped out each button, "Then there was Daphne Greengrass in fifth year—she's kind of easy but she wasn't opposed to anal, so _that_ was fun. Then Tobin Sanders (he's a year below us) in our sixth year."

Harry suddenly looked uncomfortable and Draco stopped short of pulling his shirt off. "What, Harry? You asked," he said shortly.

"Sorry—you just don't seem to care much about any of them," Harry mumbled.

"Not true. Pansy is one of my best friends, and Daphne and I get along just fine. Tobin was nice too, but we didn't want to be exclusive. We had sex, we enjoyed ourselves…with you though…this is different. The feelings are…different." Draco said, looking uncomfortable.

Harry's eyes brightened considerably. "I'm sorry, I didn't mean to pry. But, I'm…really glad I'm… 'different'," he said, grinning.

The blonde rolled his eyes and shirked off his top revealing a pale, firm chest. Harry ogled at it for a minute. He had never seen Draco shirtless before. It was always him that was bared. His heart skipped a beat as he noticed a few long scars marring the skin, mostly faded, but still there. He raised a shaking had and touched the tips of his fingers to it, sadly. Draco caught his wrist as he was tracing a mark, and lifted his hand up to press a chaste kiss to the back of it—on Harry's own marked hand.

"No worries. We all have our scars, Harry." He said softly. Harry stood finally, and put both hands gently on the strong chest presented to him, littering it with feather-light kisses to each and every scar that had been his doing. That day in their sixth year seemed like another lifetime ago.

Draco let out a strangled moan when Harry sunk to his knees to place a kiss on a particular scar—one that was very much near the trail of light hair that disappeared into dark pajama bottoms. In a moment of boldness, Harry inched downwards to press his lips along the straining erection. It felt hot and thick and _so hard_ in the fabric beneath his mouth and Draco's breath hitched.

"G-get on the bed, Harry, _please_ ," Draco whispered huskily. Harry slowly rose back to his feet, his own prick hardening in anticipation. _Maybe this wouldn't be like before. Maybe Draco could make his body feel as good as he made Harry's heart feel._ He laid back onto the bed and then Draco was untying his thin robe and yanking his underwear down, dropping kisses onto his bare thighs as he slid the boxer briefs down his legs. His erection jutted from his body and he silently begged for Draco to put his mouth on him.

He didn't right away. Instead, he reached up to kiss Harry's lips while simultaneously grabbing a nearby pillow by Harry's head. He broke away to urge Harry's hips up and he shimmied the pillow underneath them. Harry didn't question Draco's actions and his prick twitched attentively as he watched him kiss and lick his way down his belly and _finally_ to his— _oh fuck!_ Harry snapped his head back and his hips shot forward of their own accord as Draco's hot mouth descended smoothly onto his erection, laving it from the crown to the base.

" _Fuck_." Draco let out a little chuckle that was muffled by the cock in his mouth and Harry shuddered blissfully at the vibration. Draco's mouth worshipped his shaft, sliding up and down expertly. After a few moments though, the warmth left him with a little _pop_ and Harry whined grumpily at the lost sensation. He didn't have time to complain though, because that wicked tongue found its way south to his balls, sucking each one into his mouth greedily, then lowering and lowering until—

"Oh fuck, _fuck_! What are you doing!" Harry nearly squealed as the wet muscle inched down the smooth valley between his arsecheeks and began circling the tight ring of muscle. He could feel his entrance twitch approvingly and he would've came right then and there if Draco's right hand hadn't shot out to squeeze the base of his member tightly to stave off any orgasm.

"Mmm, hush Harry," was all Draco said before he put his tongue back to work. The tip was poking into him now, incessantly, the wet noises were _so wrong,_ yet _so fucking good,_ and Harry couldn't hold back his moaning, not caring how depraved everything was sounding. He surrendered completely to the sensations, his nerves tingling through his body, heart racing, blood pooling to his groin like he was going to burst…it was wonderfully overwhelming. He felt his body relax as Draco fucked him with his tongue, the usually aristocratic face looking utterly debauched between the cheeks of Harry's arse. Draco's hands gripped firmly into globes of flesh, squeezing encouragingly as Harry's body quaked from pleasure.

Then Draco came up for air and lightly slapped his arse, sending another jolt of desire through Harry. He wiped his glistening mouth on the back of his hand and held Harry's lust-filled gaze with his own as he reached over to the vial on the table. Harry's thighs trembled slightly as he watched the blonde pour some of the lube down Harry's crevice and used his fingers to work it over his hole.

"You look so fucking hot like this, Harry," Draco murmured, his eyes grazing Harry's flushed face, his body, and then settling appreciatively onto his quivering puckered entrance. His prick was leaking clear fluid, and Draco grasped it, giving it a few smooth tugs as one finger rubbed at the furrowed entrance, before it slipped inside him. He felt Harry tense up from discomfort, the walls of his arse resisting the intrusion and Draco groaned at the feel. His left hand abandoned the warm cock in favor of rubbing soothing circles on Harry's hip. "You're literally _sucking_ me in…so _greedy_ ," Draco added lowly, voice thick with desire. His own cock twitched enthusiastically in his pants.

Harry groaned, turning his face to the side slightly and his arm came up to cover his eyes and red face in the crook of his elbow. He found that he liked Draco talking to him like this. And he shouldn't, because it was Draco _Malfoy_ and Harry wasn't supposed to want him this much.

Slowly he began to move his finger in and out, letting Harry get used to the sensation. When the tension seemed to ebb enough, Draco worked a second digit in next to the first and pressed in, searching for that little magical spot.

"Oh _God_ , _what was that?!_ Do that again!" Harry gasped out and Draco grinned, flicking his fingers up to massage Harry's prostate. Harry let out a throaty moan that went straight to his cock and Draco moved his fingers back and forth in earnest, scissoring them to open Harry up more, studying Harry closely as he became undone before him on the bed. He withdrew his fingers and watched fascinatingly as the blush-pink hole winked at him. Merlin he was going to come in his pants if he wasn't careful. And he prided himself in being an attentive lover—not a one-pump-chump.

Harry whimpered at the loss of the fingers, and observed breathlessly as Draco's skilled fingers hooked into his pajama bottoms and briefs and yanked them down in one graceful motion. Draco's prick was long and thick and glorious and Harry's wild hormones were captivated by it. Worse, he longed for it, to touch it, to lick it the way Draco had done to him; but then Draco was oiling himself up and tugging Harry's arse towards his lap and Harry's heart threatened to beat out of his chest.

The lighter haired boy scooted until they fit like a jigsaw puzzle and he oiled himself up with one hand. Harry felt the blunt head of Draco's prick pressed against his arsehole and Draco leaned down to kiss his cheek.

"Harry I need you to breathe, okay?" he whispered hoarsely in his ear. Harry felt himself nodding a bit nervously and then the head surged forward and Harry couldn't help the cry that escaped his lips. Draco squeezed his hips reassuringly. "Breathe, Harry, _fuck_ , breathe and push out against me, okay?"

Harry swallowed hard and pushed like Draco advised; the act allowing the overwrought channel to accept him more easily, inch-by-inch, fully to the hilt. Harry threw his head back on the pillow with a deep groan, eyes prickling with discomfort, and Draco stilled to give him a moment to adjust.

Draco's eyes fluttered closed at the tightness, the sheer perfection from the sensation of being inside Harry. He folded forward to plank over the younger male, his groin flush against the other's backside, Harry's legs slack on either side of his waist. He opened his eyes once more to witness Harry's intense green ones fixed on him. They kissed fiercely.

"You can move, Draco," Harry panted in his mouth. Draco reached down and grasped the flagging erection in his hand, rubbing his thumb over the tip tantalizingly and giving it several firm tugs. When he felt Harry growing harder in his hand, he eased out just a couple inches and thrust in small, shallow thrusts at first, then smoother longer ones. Harry emitted a small keening noise that spurred Draco on.

"M-more, you can do more, I can take it," Harry gasped out.

Draco straightened up a bit to hook the brunette's smooth legs over his shoulders and snapped his hips into him, He sunk in deeper with every thrust, grinding his pelvis against the perky arse every time he bottomed-out, determined to stimulate them both.

"Ah—yes! Right there!" Harry cried out when Draco managed to hit his prostrate. His back arched off the bed causing his backside to undulate down onto the cock until Draco was balls deep. "There—there—GOD, please don't stop..."

Draco grinned and lifted Harry off the mattress and into his arms, down into his lap. He sat back onto his hunches and held Harry tightly by his waist. He searched Harry's face for signs of discomfort at the deeper penetration and when he saw none he thrust upwards and guided Harry down on to him.

Harry moaned and buried his face into Draco's sweaty shoulder, holding tightly to him around his neck. He shifted just so, so his legs could wrap around the taller boy's waist and they sat, connected, hips swiveling and grinding, teasingly erotic little jabs to his prostate causing Harry to moan wantonly, Draco to growl in fierce pleasure and then Harry couldn't take anymore and his back bowed and his thighs trembled as he came, shaking and swearing from the intensity. Draco did not miss a beat as he proceeded to pound him through it ruthlessly, a hand milking his cock all the while.

Harry shuddered one last time, falling limp and his toes slowly uncurled as he came down from his high just in time to feel Draco stiffen and let out a low moan as he was filled with his hot release. Harry gripped him reassuringly. It didn't feel shameful or disgusting; no, it felt passionate and sensual, as if Draco saw Harry as someone _desirable_ and not just a plaything to use and torment. It felt _perfect_. He smiled blissfully when soft lips planted a firm kiss to his throat, a long-fingered hand stroking his sweaty back without a care.

"Not so bad, then?" Draco asked quietly, still seated snugly inside the shorter boy. Harry grinned at him and cupped his hand on the back of Draco's neck to draw him in for another thorough snog.

"Not so bad at all," Harry whispered back.

A/N: Heh, sooo...did that help make up for the much darker chapter seven? Things will pick back up in nine, though! Present-day Draco is still pissed off.

Thanks for reading! xx


	9. Chapter 9

**July 22nd, 2003 (1:00 am)**

"Where's Draco?" Harry groaned, his body shuddering from pain. Lucius grimaced at the bloody mess that was the Boy-Who-Lived. The Dark Lord had been ferocious in his punishing of Potter; the deep gashes from another round with the whip, claw marks and bruises and furious bite marks littered the boy's body from his neck down to his buttocks and thighs.

"He asked me to come in his place." Lucius stepped closer to see what he was dealing with and his heart nearly stopped in his chest when his eyes landed on the small of Potter's back. "Mon Dieu…"

Harry looked up with red-rimmed eyes. "It's bad, isn't it?" He winced as he slowly eased himself up when his bonds were released. "It burned so badly when he did it, I kept blacking out. He gets off on the most twisted shit," he let out a short laugh that sounded more like a sob.

Lucius had to shake his head to bring himself back to reality, "Lay back down; I need to clean it." Harry nodded and flopped back down onto his pillow.

"Might want to _scourgify_ the bedding before you sit down," Harry mumbled and the older Malfoy's mouth twisted at the unpleasant thought of exactly what was on the bed. He did just that and then eased himself onto the edge, next to the prone form.

He cleaned the wounds with his wand, tracing each wound to close it until the bleeding stopped.

"When does the burning stop?" Harry whispered.

Lucius sighed, fingers working the ointment to the blackened brand scored into Harry's lower back. "It doesn't."

"Ever?"

"The pain becomes less intense as the mark heals, but it will burn during a summoning or when the Dark Lord is particularly…irate."

"So all the time," Harry confirmed. The blonde man said nothing and Harry breathed out an unsteady sigh.

"Draco hates me," he added softly as an afterthought a few minutes later.

"My son is upset with you for endangering young Hyperion's life."

"You all must hate me…it was stupid to act out. I know. I didn't mean for it to happen. I love my son, I couldn't…god I couldn't take it if I lost him! I'd die. I'd _want_ to die." Harry's voice cracked and his shoulders shook as he buried his face into the pillow.

"I cannot imagine how painful it must've been to lose your child, Potter. It is any parent's worst nightmare."

"What would you do, Mr. Malfoy? If you were in my position, what would you do?"

Lucius gazed down at the boy on the bed with a strained expression on his face. He wiped his hands onto a towel to remove the remnants of the salve.

"I would do whatever it took to keep my child safe."

Harry exhaled through his nose. Whatever it took.

"Did you at least succeed?" Harry's head rose up off the pillow in surprise. What did Malfoy know?

"I don't know what you're talking about."

"Don't lie to me; I saw you attempting to hand something to that Longbottom boy."

"Are you going to tell him? He'll kill Neville," Harry said as he pulled on the offered briefs. "Please Mr. Malfoy…it was just a note to tell—to tell Ron and Hermione I loved them. I swear, it was just a note."

Lucius raised his hand to silence the brunette. "Potter! Did. You. Succeed?" Harry swallowed hard and nodded his head once.

"Good. At least it wasn't all for nothing, then. Draco will forgive you in time. He cares for you. I can't pretend to know how _that_ happened, truthfully, because I spent six years listening to him prattle on and on about how inadequate you were. Yet, he _does_. Furthermore, he cares about Hyperion…I dare say we all do."

His face looked grave as Harry surveyed the man silently. He was still in trousers and a pristine button-down shirt even though it had to be past midnight by now. Although the patriarch no longer had the same haunted look from his brief stint in Azkaban, Lucius still seemed like a man trapped. He hid it well, but Harry could sense his weariness growing.

Harry shook his head as he was offered his pajama top, "If you don't mind, I'd rather not. I think the material will be too scratchy."

 **…**

"What do you think you are doing?"

Draco looked up quickly as Lucius walked into the study.

Lucius eyed the glass of scotch in Draco's hand with a stern frown. His son was sitting haphazardly in the armchair in front of his desk, his face looking slightly flushed from the alcohol. Lucius walked by the chair and snatched the glass from his hand.

"Hey, that's mine…!" Draco mumbled lazily.

"Are you smashed? Sit up," he rapped Draco on the leg, knocking it down from where it was hooked over the arm of the lounger. Draco sat up, blinking wearily.

"That was the plan, Father…before you interrupted me," he drawled and Lucius sent him a severe look before downing the half-drunken scotch. He welcomed the burn.

"You are lucky I advised your mother to get some rest; you know how she feels about you drinking."

Draco sighed, "I know, I know, I'm such a disappointment." His eyes fluttered closed and Lucius's brow creased slightly with puzzled frown.

"What do you mean by that, Draco?"

Draco shrugged. "Forget it."

"Son, have your mother and I ever given you the impression you were a disappointment to us?" Lucius said softly.

Draco snorted and leaned his head to rest on the palm of his propped up arm. "I couldn't kill Dumble-Dumbledore like I was assigned to when I was sixteen. I couldn't even land a _cruciatus_ curse properly when told to. I'm a failure, and a bloody- _hic_ -lousy excuse for a pureblood and heir."

Lucius slowly leaned onto the edge of his desk before his son. He noted Draco's glazed eyes and let out a low sigh.

"Son…I am actually _relieved_ you can't cast a proper _cruciatus_ curse." Draco's head snapped up at his confession. "I am relieved you couldn't kill Albus Dumbledore, as well. Draco, do you have any idea what killing and torturing does to a person? To the human psyche? To the very _soul_? I've…I wanted better for you. Better than this.

"…Did you know when you were just a couple weeks old you urinated on me while I was changing your nappy? Ruined some very expensive robes, I might add. And when you were three you turned my prized albino peacock _magenta_. You threw a tantrum when I turned it back, too. I was wholly convinced you were part banshee. And then you went to Hogwarts and I heard from Severus all of the mischief you caused—terrorizing a hippogriff, dressing up like _Dementors_ —"

"Where are you going with this, Father?" Lucius glowered at him.

"Don't interrupt me, Draco," he snapped and poured himself another generous glass of scotch. "My point is, son, you are a lot of things to me, including a downright pain-in-the-neck at times… but a _disappointment_ has never been one of them. And you are certainly not a 'bloody lousy excuse for a pureblood and heir', as you so eloquently put it," Lucius finished. Draco seemed to deflate a little in relief, suddenly looking much younger than his twenty-two years.

"I…I like Harry, Father."

Lucius quirked an eyebrow.

"I am aware, Draco. You've been living with the boy for several years. It was bound to happen." He quirked an eyebrow when Draco shook his head sloppily.

"No… _no_ , Dad. I mean I like him, a lot. More than I should," Draco groaned out and then stilled when he realized what he admitted. He tensed up and looked at his father with wild eyes.

Lucius froze as he witnessed Draco's confession. He closed his eyes and pinched the bridge of his nose tightly. All of a sudden he was feeling very ill.

Draco and Potter? He knew they had developed some sort of friendship by now, it truly _was_ bound to happen after all these years. But Draco harboring a crush for the Boy-Who-Lived was beyond perilous.

"See? A bitter disappointment…" Draco slurred quietly. He leaned forward to bury his face in his hands, wishing the floor would open him up to swallow him whole. He waited for a furious lecture or even a wallop with the cane, but it never came. Instead, Lucius's hand clasped him on the back of his neck and squeezed gently but firmly.

"I think, my son, it's time for you to get some sleep. Come; it's late."

The pair walked in silence up a flight of stairs in a tentative silence, Draco feeling uneasy for the entirety of the trip.

Usually he had a high tolerance for his alcohol. Slytherins were renowned for throwing parties in the common room. How could he let himself get to the point he'd let his feelings for Harry slip? He didn't mention Hyperion did he? No, he didn't say anything about Hyperion. He just said he liked Harry. That was it…right? Merlin, his head felt foggy.

"Draco. You're passing up your room." His feet rooted into the floor and he turned to look back where his father stood next to his bedroom door. Lucius rolled his eyes and pushed the door open.

"Go to sleep, son…and don't seek me out for a hangover potion in the morning; you _absolutely_ will not get any sympathy from me." Lucius muttered. "Stay out of my liquor cabinet, young man," he added as an afterthought before shutting the door. Draco withheld a groan and stumbled into the room; he didn't care he hadn't changed his clothes as he dropped onto his bed. He was asleep before he hit the pillow.

 **…**

"…"

"…Er, hey?"

"Hi," Draco said tersely. Harry sat at the kitchen table holding a sniffling Hyperion in his lap. He rubbed the little back before sliding into his seat beside his mother. He watched as Harry's tired face lowered to whisper words into the little boy's ear. Hyperion nodded, and eased into the seat next to his father, his little face streaked with crocodile-sized tears. Draco was grateful his father had taken over his duties last night and then again this morning when he woke up hungover and miserable.

Draco felt the anger rise into his chest as he recalled the child's sobs from the night before as he heard his daddy screams and cries from the bedroom. He recalled the pleas of _"Please make him stop hurting my Daddy!"_ and clenched his hands into fists, determined to not make eye contact with anyone at the table. Between Hyperion and Harry's sobs he couldn't take it; it had driven him into his father's liquor cabinet. It drove him to drink to the point he let slip precarious feelings.

Because as angry as Draco was, as _fucking livid_ as he was, those feelings were still there. He hated having feelings, sometimes.

He dug into his eggs quietly, until Hyperion's soft voice piped up from across the table.

"Everything will be okay," he said solemnly, patting Harry's hand tenderly. "They always tell me that."

Harry slowly lowered his fork and looked over at his son with a staggered look on his face. "Who, love? Who tells you that?"

Hyperion smiled pleasantly at all the bewildered faces around the dining table.

"Um, Padfoot and Prongs and the pretty lady."

Harry looked at Hyperion like he'd never seen him before. He sat back in his seat feeling mystified, wincing as his not-quite-healed back met the wood.

"Where—where did you hear those names, Hyperion?" Harry croaked out.

"They _told_ me, Daddy," Hyperion said exasperatedly. Harry cleared his throat slightly, opening and closing his mouth like a fish, not quite knowing what to say.

"How—what…?"

"They're always around, Daddy. They play with me sometimes. They say we should have 'faith'."

Harry swallowed down the lump in his throat.

 **…**

"Draco—"

"Don't, Harry. I am not in the mood," Draco said, turning the page of his book briskly.

"I'm sorry…" Harry whispered out. Draco watched out of the corner of his eye as Harry visibly deflated and made to leave the library. _Don't do it, don't do it!_

He snapped the book shut.

"Wait."

 _Why'd you do it?_

Harry wheeled back around and gazed at him. Draco set his book aside and rose from the lounge _._ He walked slowly, deliberately to stop a few feet in front of the brunette who had his arms wrapped around himself protectively.

Draco shoved his hands into his trouser pockets and looked at Harry shrewdly. "I'm furious with you." He stated shortly, gaging Harry's reaction.

The boy nodded, "You have every right to hate me."

"I never said I hated you."

Harry shook his head, "You should. _I_ hate myself. I was fucking _stupid_ and gambling and it was horrible of me."

Draco conceded with a nod of his own, "It was stupid and horrible. You broke your promise to me. You very nearly got our son killed. I would've never forgiven you if you had."

Harry's eyes fluttered up to meet Draco's gaze. The cool eyes bored into him.

"…was it as awful as it sounded?"

Harry bit his lip, not wanting to relive his torture. "Yes...every time I blacked out he'd revive me. He loved it."

Draco frowned deeply.

"I—" Harry cut off and turned around, lifting his top up to reveal his marred back. Draco inhaled sharply.

"He marked you? Is that a real Dark Mark?"

Harry nodded bitterly. "Yes. He did it while he raped me. He literally did it while he _came_." Draco swallowed the bile that had risen in his throat. He couldn't stand the thought—the _visual_ he got when he thought of that hideous man on top of Harry, _inside_ Harry, making him bleed, spelling the Dark Mark onto his skin; it threatened to make Draco violently ill.

He hadn't realized he was staring until Harry spun back around, tucking his shirt back in. "You know muggles call tattoos on their lower back 'tramp stamps?'" Harry asked. His voice sounded strained. "Funny, huh? Because I'm the Dark Lord's whore. Ha, ha."

"You—you are _not_ a whore," Draco said sternly. "Hey, stop. Look at me," he reached down and crooked a finger under Harry's chin. "You aren't. You're a prisoner. _Whore's_ get paid. You don't have a choice what you have to do."

"He called me a whore in front of everyone, Draco. As far as the Wizarding World is concerned, I've been bending over for the 'Dark Lord' like a wanton slut."

"He whipped you in front of them too. Or rather, Bellatrix did. I have faith that they're not stupid enough to believe you're a willing sex-slave."

"Hyperion _did_ say that we needed to have faith."

Draco smirked, "He gets his astuteness from my side of the family." Harry grinned slightly at him.

"You are such an arrogant ponce."

"Tch, you wouldn't want me any other way; admit it."

Harry shrugged, his spirits lifting. "You're right. I wouldn't change your snarky, Slytherin pratty-ness for the world," he informed him honestly.

Draco leaned in to kiss him chastely on the forehead. "Don't be so rash again…I couldn't fucking _stand_ hearing Hyperion cry like that. I couldn't stand hearing him torture you, either. My heart is on a bloody _spear_ here Harry, don't stab it further."

They sat side by side on little sofa that occupied the library and sat in silence for some time before Harry spoke up. "I…I know it'll be a while before you trust me. I don't blame you. But thanks, you know, for not giving up on me."

* * *

 **(Flashback) January 3** **rd** **, 1999**

" _YOU BLOODY IMBECILES_!" Snape yelled. Harry flinched slightly but Draco just eyed the Potions Master coolly. His arms were crossed in a defensive stance as he stood beside the examining table. "Are you two insane? You've both lost your bloody minds. Do you have a death wish, Draco? Do _you_ want to lose another child, Potter?" He said harshly, shrugging off the guilt he felt at his last few words.

"Can you do it, or not, Severus?" Draco muttered, shifting uneasily. Snape closed his eyes, physically restraining himself from beating some sense into the pair.

"It's a powerful spell, but of course I can do it." Severus barked, his voice ladled with fury. "You two…have you any idea how dangerous this is? Not to mention, the child could still belong to the Dark Lord, and this could've all been a useless risk!"

Harry stilled, wide-eyed as he processed the words. "What?"

Snape huffed and shoved the torn page into his pocket, "You had intercourse with two men within twenty-four hours, Potter. While Draco was with you first, there's still a chance the Dark Lord's sperm could've reached home before his." Draco had the audacity to look affronted and Harry's face was flushed red from mortification.

"Is—is there no way of knowing whose child it is?" Harry asked, dreading the answer. He never thought he'd have to utter those words in his lifetime. Snape shook his head.

"Not until the child is born…bloody idiots." Severus sighed again. "You better Occlude like lives depend on it boys, because they most certainly do. Now both of you get out of my sight."

…

Harry looked at Draco. "It might not be yours. I'm so sorry, I didn't know, Draco…this really might've all been for nothing," he mumbled quietly to the blonde. Draco shook off the apology with the wave of his hand.

"It wasn't all for nothing. This child is mine. I _know_ it is. It'll be a cold day in hell when my swimmers lose to his," Draco said smugly. Too. Fucking. Smugly. Harry scoffed and rolled his eyes.

"Ponce," Draco self-assured smirk grew.

"What can I say? I get the job done. And judging by the way you behaved last week, quite _thoroughly_ too."

"You're seriously _gloating_ about that? Really?" Harry said incredulously, his cheeks warming slightly at the memory of their encounter. Draco shrugged casually.

"I'm an adolescent with raging hormones, and you're quite loud and zealous in bed. Can you blame me?"

"Oh _God_ ," Harry moaned, feeling humiliated.

"There you go, calling me a God again…"

"I hate you, Malfoy!"

Draco paused and glanced at the dark-haired teen. "It's sexy, Harry. I like that you're loud. I like that I could get your eyes to roll back into your head like— _ouch_!"

"Seriously, Draco, _stop_." Harry said, his palm stinging slightly from where he smacked the blonde's shoulder sharply.

"Fine, _fine_ …" Draco lamented mockingly, hands in the air in surrender.

"…"

"You…think I'm sexy?"

Draco rolled his eyes.

"…maybe."

Harry couldn't help but gloat a bit, either.

* * *

 **(Flashback) January 10** **th** **, 1999**

"Oh, shit…" Harry gasped as Draco nipped down his neck and shoulder. Draco smirked at the image him and Harry made in the bathroom mirror together. _Yes_ , Draco decided, _very sexy._

"We can't do this, your parents—"

"—Are not going to waltz right in if they think you're bathing."

"But—oh—they could hear!"

"I cast a _silencio_ already."

"God, don't stop then." Draco grinned devilishly as he met Harry's eyes in the mirror.

"Hold on tight to the sink," Draco murmured before he slid gracefully down to his knees to level with Harry's pert arse. He squeezed the globes firmly as he pried them apart to reveal the puckered opening. He leaned in to lick a broad stripe across it with his tongue, admiring the sound of Harry's keening moan. "I could eat you all day long," he said lowly, and Harry's hips jerked back towards Draco's face in a desperate need. His erection was heavy and Harry reached down to give it a few tugs. He'd had his reservations at first, but Harry decided wholeheartedly that he wouldn't mind at all if Draco did this to him all day long.

The mouth was making filthy slurping noises that made Harry's knees feel weak with arousal.

"Mmm," Draco said, pulling back from the crack of his arse and bit gently on a cheek, one slender finger poking at his wet entrance, rubbing enticingly before slipping inside in one slick motion.

"Ah!" Harry pushed himself onto the digit and Draco's lust-blown eyes watched as Harry's arse swallowed his finger. He groaned aloud and spat onto his middle finger before working it in gradually beside the other. After a few moments of scissoring and thrusting his fingers, Draco withdrew them quickly and hooked his thumbs on either side of the reddened rim, tugging Harry open a little and stuck his tongue in, probing him wetly between his fingers.

" _Fuck_ , I want you," Harry panted out and Draco stood up fluidly behind him, pressing his warm cock in between the flesh of his buttocks.

"Want you so badly," Draco murmured into his ear and Harry's skin broke out into goosebumps as the warm breath tickled his neck. "Lift your knee up onto the counter, Harry…" Draco suggested urgently, a hand grasping the back of Harry's thigh and guiding his right leg to prop itself onto the counter. Harry smirked and jutted his backside out to rub against Draco's prick. The blonde's hand gripped tighter onto his sweaty thigh at the stimulation.

Within seconds Draco was oiling himself liberally and pressing in with the blunt head of his cock. Harry let out a grunt at the stretch, urging his muscles to relax against the intrusion, to accept the pleasure Draco was going to give him, and to give it back to him just as well. Draco let out a long breath as he slid home, balls deep into Harry. Harry smiled at Draco's reflection and then leaned forward to place one hand on the counter and one onto the mirror to brace himself.

Last week they had been in bed, and Harry loved every minute of it. But standing here in the bathroom, half on the counter, Harry loved the sensuality of it. And most importantly he loved he could see Draco's face, with his mouth open slightly, eyes closed like he wanted to take in every sensation…and then the grey eyes opened and met Harry's own reflection, he smiled.

Not the trademark smirk Harry had grown fond of, but a genuine smile that made Harry's heart swell.

Draco laced his fingers with Harry's own against the mirror and thrust languidly, smoothly. They should've been hurrying. They _shouldn't_ have been doing this at all. But neither boy could bring himself to care and Draco rocked his hips to grind against Harry's prostate causing him to yell out loudly at the feeling.

The sounds of flesh slapping against flesh filled the room, mingled with their harsh panting and filthy squelching noises from all the lube. _It was bloody heaven_ , Harry decided as he met every thrust of Draco's, pushing his hips backwards onto Draco's cock.

" _Fuck_ , give it to me," Harry demanded breathlessly in a voice that sounded much more confident than he felt. He was inexperience and unpracticed and was all too aware of it most of the time. But here, now, with Draco doing this with him, _to him_ , his words spilled from his lips before he could stop them, and he felt embarrassed at how shameless he must've sounded to the blonde. However, Draco didn't seem turned off by Harry's words; if anything it spurred him on if the increasing canting of hips were anything to go by.

He had never felt so desirable by anyone; never thought that a person would _want_ him so badly that he'd end up fucking in a bathroom of all places. The thought of it made him feel heady and dizzy with pleasure.

Harry could feel the familiar boiling heat pooling into his groin, and he wagged his head, desperate not to come but unable to help it and then he threw his head back onto Draco's shoulder. "I'm gonna, I'm—I—."

Draco's hand grasped his cock without hesitation tugging it with a warm long-fingered hand. "Come for me, _fuck Harry_ , come for me-!" _Come for me_. All it took were three little words and a couple firm strokes and Harry's body seized at the force of his orgasm slamming through him. The combination of Harry's whimpers and the involuntary tightening of that arse around his cock forced Draco's own imminent release and he snapped his hips into Harry one last time, clenched teeth and shuddering.

Draco's chest was heaving and Harry's body that rested against him rose and fall with the motion of it. "I think," Draco started as he rubbed Harry's sweaty thigh, "I need a shower now, as well." Harry's head lolled onto his shoulder and he let out a sated laugh.

"Join me? We've already spent ages in here now; we better hurry."

Draco smirked, looking much too self-satisfied as he and Harry slid apart to slide under the steady stream of water together. In Draco's few exploits, he could honestly admit he had never showered with another person. Now, here he stood with the boy he once considered the bane of his existence, and he paid no mind to the water dripping into his eyes as he reached out and pulled Harry against his own slippery body in a silent embrace. There was nothing sexual about it, just a mutual search for intimacy.

If Draco was going to get murdered for this, at least he would die happy.


End file.
